AVALANCHE
by shirebound
Summary: An avalanche on Caradhras leaves Frodo hurt and Pippin in shock. While Pippin tries to regain his shattered courage, Legolas and Boromir begin to realize their importance to the Fellowship. NO slash, sex, profanity, violence
1. To The Edge

(PLEASE NOTE: This story is not about the "movie avalanche" created by Saruman, but one of those unexpected cascades of snow that periodically occurs on high mountains, especially Caradhras the Cruel.)  
  
This is a different type of story for me, so please let me know if I should continue. (If so, future chapters will definitely be longer than this one!)  
  
DISCLAIMER: Of course. The characters don't belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.  
  
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AVALANCHE  
  
Chapter 1 --- To the Edge  
  
The Company had been climbing for three days, three weary days along what Gandalf had the nerve to call a path, the air more bitter cold each day they marched. The hobbits were so tired of pulling their legs out of the snow and struggling on, and up, that they had ceased to sing, or joke, or even speak much. There was just climbing, and being cold, and wishing they would reach the top so they could start down.  
  
In the late afternoon of the third day Aragorn called a halt at a fairly wide ledge, partially protected by an overhang of rock. The ledge was wide enough so even Bill could move about somewhat, and was blessedly free of snow.  
  
Frodo dropped his pack where he stood and closed his eyes for a moment, bright lights sparkling and dancing inside his eyelids after so many hours of staring down at sun-lit snow and ice. He pulled his cloak tighter about him, grateful for the hundredth time for the warm jackets and cloaks Elrond had provided each of them. He hadn't known it was possible to be this tired and this cold. Even with the warm garments, however, he and Pippin seemed to be suffering more from the cold than any of the others.  
  
Before helping the others unpack and begin to prepare supper (another night without a fire, Frodo thought with a sigh), he walked some distance away from the sheltered part of the ledge and looked down. Below them the side of the mountain sloped down for maybe 30 feet, ending abruptly in a clifftop strewn with boulders and scraggly trees poking out above the snow. Just beyond the largest boulder was a sheer drop, how far down Frodo didn't even want to think about. He pulled his eyes away from the fairly frightening sight below him to look up, then further up.  
  
We're much more than halfway, he mused. Another couple of days.. He turned to smile at Pippin, who had walked over to join him at the edge.  
  
"We should help," murmured Pippin, "But I'm so tired I can hardly move."  
  
"Me too," sighed Frodo. "Come on, though, we really should.." He frowned as his ears caught a strange, faint rumbling sound. Legolas had also frozen in place, as had the other hobbits. All listened intently.  
  
"What do you hear?" asked Aragorn.  
  
"It's like a roaring," said Sam. He looked around, alarmed. "It's getting closer."  
  
At that moment Aragorn heard it too, and he and Boromir exchanged a swift look and instinctively looked up. Unfortunately, from where they stood under the overhanging rock their vision was blocked from any view of the top of the mountain.  
  
"Frodo, Pippin, come back!" yelled Boromir. "Now!" He started toward them in a panic.  
  
Frodo and Pippin only had time to turn and face Boromir before they were hit by a solid mass of snow from above. They were both pushed violently backwards off the ledge and found themselves tumbling down, over and over, engulfed in snow. It had happened so fast that Frodo only had time to realize that he and Pippin were falling to their deaths before everything went black.  
  
  
  
An instant before the avalanche hit the ledge, Aragorn had grabbed Sam and Merry, thrusting the hobbits between Bill and the side of the cliff. Boromir had made it to within a few feet of Pippin when at the last second he had to throw himself to the side to avoid being swept away by the wall of snow thundering past. As the cascade slowed and then halted, he shakily rose to his feet, staring in disbelief at the empty ledge where Frodo and Pippin had been standing only moments before.  
  
The silence was almost as deafening as the roaring had been. Sam raised his head and looked around frantically for Frodo, then leaped to his feet as he heard Boromir calling.  
  
"Frodo! Pippin! Can you hear me?"  
  
"Boromir," Aragorn came swiftly to his side. "Yelling might bring down more snow." He and Boromir made their way through the fresh piles of snow to the very edge and looked down in dismay. They saw nothing but snow, a fresh, white expanse all the way down the slope, punctuated only by the tops of the largest boulders and the highest trees at the edge of the cliff. Frodo and Pippin were nowhere to be seen.  
  
Suddenly Sam and Merry raced up, and the Men had to nearly snatch the hobbits out of mid-air to keep them from throwing themselves down the slope.  
  
"Strider," gasped Merry, "Where are they?"  
  
Sam felt panic swelling within him, and he fell to his knees, his legs suddenly unable to hold him up. It couldn't be, no. No no no no.... "Frodo!" he screamed.  
  
There was no answer.  
  
** TBC ** 


	2. Holding On

Thanks for the "thumbs up"!  I'm in new territory with this story.  (And Chapter 1 was a "cliffhanger" in more ways than one, I didn't think of that!)

Laughing Half Elf:   I love your reviews so much.  (And as long as you're here, *where* is the next chapter of "The Mischief Makers"?  Just a little nudge..)

Tathar:   As long as I'm nudging authors, where is Chapter 4 of "The Folly of the Wise"?  I'm enjoying that tale so much.

Okay, enough nudging.  Back to the story....

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NOTE:   As the Fellowship begins its journey Pippin is 28 years old, a hobbit not yet "of age".  I have chosen to write him as such; a tweenager trying to hold his own in a group of adults but still on shaky emotional ground in a lot of ways.

DISCLAIMER:  Of course. The characters don't belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.

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AVALANCHE

Chapter 2 --- Holding On

Frodo didn't want to wake up yet, but it was so cold and someone kept yelling at him.  Why was it so cold?  Had the fire gone out?  The Elves in Rivendell were so diligent about keeping his room warm at night...  More wood on the fire, he thought groggily, and then back to sleep.....  he slowly opened his eyes.  So dark, what...  suddenly Frodo gasped in shock and inhaled a mouthful of snow.  He realized he was lying on his stomach, covered in snow, his left side jammed up against a smooth wall of rock.  Coughing and spluttering, he managed to raise his head a bit.  The few inches of snow covering his head fell away as he blinked hazily in the bright light and tried to understand what had happened.  He lay his head back down in the snow for a minute, suddenly dizzy.  His head hurt.  It would be so easy just to go back to sleep, but some part of him knew he'd better not.

Frodo tried to brace himself against the rock and sit up, but as he moved, a sharp pain shot through his left wrist and he choked back a scream.  He lay still for a moment, frightened.  He tried moving his right hand, relieved that at least there was no pain.  Was he caught on something?  His mind seemed wrapped in a fog, and it was almost a full minute before he realized that the fingers of his right hand were curled tightly in something soft and yielding under the snow.  A scarf.  Pippin's scarf.

Frodo pulled desperately at the scarf, then harder.  Suddenly the mound of snow to his right moved slightly and he almost sobbed in relief.  His thoughts started to drift a little and he fought to think straight and stay conscious.  He tried to piece together what had happened.  Apparently the snow had slammed him into the boulder with Pippin right behind him.  The boulder, the boulder that he had seen from the ledge... With a pang of fear Frodo suddenly realized where they were.

The end of the scarf moved on its own, away from his fingers, and he let it go as Pippin slowly shook off the pile of snow covering him, coughing.  Very slowly and carefully, trying to ignore the pain and growing dizziness, Frodo managed to sit up and lean back against the boulder, cradling his left arm in his lap.  His lower body was still partially covered in snow, but he could move his legs and feet so he knew they weren't injured.  One thing he didn't have to check was the Ring.  He knew it was still there.  He'd know if it was gone.

Frodo watched anxiously as Pippin made it to his knees.  "Pip, are you all right?"

Pippin sat down heavily, staring at Frodo in confusion.  "What are we doing here?"

Frodo took a deep breath, trying to stay focused.  "I think some snow came down from the top, and pushed us down here."  He took another deep breath, afraid he was about to faint.  "Come here, Pip, slowly.  Sit next to me."

"Frodo, you're so pale," Pippin said anxiously, still a bit disoriented.  "Let's just go back, why can't we just----"  He was standing up shakily, his eyes starting to take in their surroundings.

Someone was yelling again, but Frodo kept his eyes locked on his cousin.  "Pip, look at me," he said urgently.  "Don't look around, Pippin, look at me!"

But it was too late.  Pippin was looking past the boulder, to the edge, to.... They were only a few feet from the edge!  He gasped as their situation hit him full force, his thoughts starting to tumble and scatter.  They had almost.... they could still... just a few feet and... Pippin's face turned ashen and he felt that he suddenly couldn't breathe.  Dropping back down to his knees, he lunged convulsively at Frodo and grabbed him, desperately needing something solid to hold onto.  He started to shake, tightening his grip on Frodo's jacket.  They had almost... they could still...  don't move, don't move, don't move...

"Pippin!"  Frodo flung his good arm around his cousin's trembling form and pulled him close, careful of his throbbing arm.  Dimly he heard more yelling, heard his name.  Frodo knew he should look up, he should answer, but he could barely keep his eyes open.  He was so cold, so tired, but he had to stay awake and hold onto Pippin.  He had to hold on.

"Frodo!"  Sam had screamed a second time before Aragorn's hand clamped over his mouth.

"Wait, Sam," said the Ranger quietly.  He looked at Legolas, who was listening intently.  "Anything?"

The Elf shook his head.  "Nothing.  That sound has stopped completely.  I believe we are safe for the moment."

"Let's get down there!"  Merry was practically in tears.  "It's not far, we have to search for them!"

"We will, Merry.  We have to----"

"Wait, what is that?"  Legolas was peering down the slope to the base of the largest boulder, where a dark shape had just appeared in the snow.  "Frodo," he said with a smile.

"Where?"  Sam lunged forward.  "Is he all right?"

"Pippin," Legolas murmured after a few minutes, watching the scene below him intently.  Gimli, Boromir, and Gandalf were standing just behind him, and a hobbit was on either side of him.  They watched as Pippin stood up, then seemed to fall back down.  Legolas was taking in every detail with his keener sight.

"Pippin!" yelled Merry.  "Pippin, can you hear me?"

Legolas spoke again.  "I believe Frodo is hurt.  Pippin is..." he shook his head.  "It is difficult to say.  They are very close to the edge of the cliff, Aragorn."  He looked at the Ranger grimly.  "Very close."

"No rope," Sam muttered to himself.  "What else can we..." his voice trailed off as he dashed back to the gear, pulling out every blanket he could find.  "Gimli, help me!"

"I will run down there," Legolas continued, "But this slope looks a bit steep and unstable for anyone else to risk it.  If one or both are hurt I will have to bring them up separately.  I need to go now, their position is precarious, to say the least and they will get very cold as the sun starts to go down."

"I've a better idea."  Sam burst into their midst, throwing down a pile of blankets with more trailing behind him.  "We're knotting 'em together.  Begging your pardon, sir, but you can use this like a rope, it should be plenty long enough.  You can hold onto both of them and we can pull all of you up here together.  Please!"  He looked imploringly at Legolas.

Aragorn knelt and tested several of the knots, finding them sound.  He looked at the hobbit and smiled.  "This is perfect, Sam."  He got to his feet and immediately tied the end of the first blanket to Legolas' belt.  As soon as the makeshift "rope" was finished, he found the other end and held it.  "Go!" he said to Legolas.

As the Elf started to run lightly down the slope trailing the rope of blankets behind him, Sam kept his eye on the two hobbits huddled at the base of the boulder.  "Frodo!" he screamed again.  Anxiously he looked up at Gandalf.  "Don't they hear us?"  The wizard patted Sam's shoulder comfortingly, but had no answer.

** TBC **


	3. Letting Go

My gosh, thanks so much for the encouraging comments!  
  
ShireDweller: You better believe Sam's strong enough to knot blankets together. Sam would knot Gimli and Boromir together if it meant getting Frodo up that slippery slope one minute sooner.  
  
___________________________  
  
NOTE: As the Fellowship begins its journey Pippin is 28 years old, a hobbit not yet "of age". I have chosen to write him as such; a tweenager trying to hold his own in a group of adults but still on shaky emotional ground in a lot of ways.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Of course. The characters don't belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.  
  
___________________________  
  
AVALANCHE  
  
Chapter 3 --- Letting Go  
  
  
  
"Frodo? Wake up, now. Frodo, open your eyes."  
  
Warm hands were cupping his face. A soft, insistent voice. With an effort Frodo opened his eyes to see a somewhat blurred Legolas smiling at him.  
  
"Legolas?" Frodo whispered.  
  
"That's right. Try to stay with me." Legolas reached behind Frodo's head to pull up the hood of the hobbit's cloak, and he brushed the snow off Frodo's legs. "How badly are you injured, Frodo? Tell me."  
  
Frodo looked down to find Pippin still huddled against him, shivering with cold. Legolas had pulled Pippin's hood up as well. "I, I tried to keep Pip from seeing where we were, but I couldn't."  
  
"I'm sure you tried your best," Legolas said. "Did you look as well?"  
  
"No," Frodo said. "But I'm sure we're near.... we must be close to... I thought we should stay here." He closed his eyes for a minute. Everything was too bright. "So dizzy.... I feel sick, Legolas."  
  
The Elf touched the hobbit's face. "You were right to stay here. Stay awake, Frodo, keep talking. Where are you hurt?"  
  
"My head," Frodo sighed. "My arm, it really hurts, I think something's broken."  
  
Legolas gently pushed Frodo's left sleeve up a bit and frowned at the bruised, swollen wrist. He stroked Frodo's cold fingers. "Is Pippin hurt? He won't talk to me."  
  
"Just scared, I think," said Frodo. He looked down. "Pip, can you hear me?"  
  
Pippin looked up at Frodo and nodded, but said nothing.  
  
"Do you hurt anywhere?"  
  
Pippin shook his head.  
  
"All right, good." Legolas started to untangle Pippin's fingers from the front of Frodo's jacket, but the hobbit just shook his head violently and wouldn't let go. Legolas thought for a minute, then swiftly untied the blanket from his belt and tied it to Pippin's.  
  
"Pippin, I want you to let go of Frodo and hold onto this blanket," Legolas said. Pippin just stared at him. "Look up there, Pippin. Look." Legolas pointed up the slope, and Pippin's eyes followed his finger. He saw the blanket-rope and Strider up above, holding it. He saw Merry.  
  
"Pippin, this blanket connects you to Aragorn, and Gandalf, and Merry. They're holding onto you, they'll keep you safe. I'll keep you safe too. Just hold onto this, Pippin, and don't let go. There, that's right." Slowly, breathing hard, Pippin let go of Frodo's jacket and grabbed the blanket fiercely.  
  
"Good." Legolas pulled Pippin very slowly to his feet and turned back to Frodo.  
  
"Legolas, how long... when did...."  
  
Legolas peered closely at Frodo, concerned. "It hasn't been very long, Frodo. Perhaps 20 minutes since you fell. Possibly less." He kept talking in an attempt to keep Frodo focused, as he checked both hobbits for any hidden injuries. "I had just begun to understand these tiny bits called 'minutes' into which Men divide their days. Now that I have met hobbits, apparently days are not divided into 'minutes' but the time it has been since one meal and how long it will be until the next!"  
  
Frodo smiled weakly, but suddenly winced as Legolas' fingers found the swelling on the side of his head.  
  
"Is everyone else all right?" Frodo asked.  
  
"Yes. And you soon will be as well." Legolas laid his hands gently on Pippin's scarf. "I'm going to borrow this for awhile, Pippin. Frodo needs it now." He untied Pippin's scarf and knotted it, placing the crude sling around Frodo's neck and easing his injured arm into it. "I'm going to tell Aragorn what's happening, then we'll start up. There may be things he needs to prepare."  
  
"Take, take Pip first."  
  
"I cannot," said Legolas with a smile. "I am not brave enough to face Sam's wrath should I leave you here!" He rose to his feet and called up the slope. "Aragorn, I'm bringing them up now. Frodo hit his head and is very dizzy. I believe he may have a broken wrist. Pippin appears to be uninjured, but is somewhat in shock." He saw Aragorn wave his hand, showing that he understood. "I have the 'rope' tied to Pippin now." Aragorn waved again, and Legolas saw him untie the blanket from his belt and hand the end to Boromir before kneeling down to talk with Sam and Merry.  
  
Legolas knelt down again in front of Frodo. "Put your right arm about my neck. Let's see if you can stand." He gently eased the injured hobbit to his feet, but Frodo suddenly felt the dizziness grow more intense and he sank back down.  
  
"Going to be sick..." he murmured.  
  
Legolas put his arm around Frodo's shoulders and supported his head while the hobbit convulsed and vomited into the snow. Frodo thought it would never end, but at last he lay gasping and exhausted in the Elf's arms, his head pounding even more painfully than before.  
  
"I'm sorry," Frodo whispered.  
  
"This is not something you can control, Frodo," said Legolas softly, wiping Frodo's mouth with the edge of his own cloak. "Perhaps it's too soon to try standing just yet." Wrapping his left arm around Frodo the Elf rose to his feet, lifting Frodo off the ground and cradling him easily with one arm. He reached his right hand down and took hold of Pippin's cloak.  
  
"We're going now, Pippin," Legolas said. He started walking with Frodo and half-pulled Pippin with him as the young hobbit stumbled painfully on cold legs. Pippin kept his eyes glued to the blanket in his hands. Legolas had said it would keep him safe. He could feel it tighten as Boromir slowly pulled on it.  
  
Frodo sighed and closed his eyes. He tried to keep his arm around the Elf's neck, but all the energy he had spent in staying awake and worrying about Pippin and even talking to Legolas seemed suddenly to have drained out of him. The urge to sleep was just too overpowering. Slowly Frodo's tenuous hold on consciousness dissolved, and Legolas felt him sag limply as he spun down into the darkness.  
  
** TBC ** 


	4. Sheltering Arms

Lilybaggins: I can just hear you moaning, "Where's Frodo?" all during this short chapter. Trust me, I won't skip any of the "hurt" or "comfort" we love so much!  
  
_______________________________  
  
PLEASE NOTE: I am not a medical professional and do not claim to be. This is a work of fiction. No medical treatment or description of physical or emotional injury in this story should be taken as anything more than the author's own opinions and plot devices.  
  
As the Fellowship begins its journey Pippin is 28 years old, a hobbit not yet "of age". I have chosen to write him as such; a tweenager trying to hold his own in a group of adults but still on shaky emotional ground in a lot of ways.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Of course. The characters don't belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.  
  
_______________________________  
  
AVALANCHE  
  
Chapter 4 --- Sheltering Arms  
  
Sam watched in awe as Legolas walked sure-footedly up the steep slope carrying Frodo and steadying Pippin. Snow was still sliding around making walking treacherous, but the Elf kept a smooth, steady pace. Everything Sam learned about Elves impressed him more and more each day.  
  
Cold, Sam thought suddenly, they're going to be awfully cold. He sat down behind Boromir and started to untie some of the blankets as the "rope" got shorter and shorter. Gathering up a handful, he piled them next to the rock wall, pulled Frodo's and Pippin's bedrolls over, and started to make a warm place for them.  
  
Merry, meanwhile, was watching Pippin's every step. Pippin stumbled slowly upwards, guided by Boromir's steady, gentle pulling, never raising his head and never saying a word to Legolas. Strider had told him that Pippin needed a lot of comfort right now, that he didn't feel safe and was very upset. He had asked Merry to be very quiet and calm, and not force Pippin to talk until he was ready.  
  
Aragorn was fumbling in his pack, pulling out cloths and splints, when Gandalf knelt down next to him.  
  
"This isn't your fault," said the wizard.  
  
Aragorn looked at Gandalf with a bitter expression on his face. "Isn't it? We are on this mountain because I would not dare to cross through Moria a second time. What if they had been killed? Another few feet and----"  
  
"Aragorn," said the wizard, "It is not you who put Frodo in danger. We are here to do everything we can to protect and defend him. With each step, each day, each decision, my friend, we can only do what we can."  
  
Aragorn nodded, but didn't look convinced.  
  
"Now," said Gandalf, "How can I help you?"  
  
"I would like to make a fire, Gandalf, they're both going to be very cold."  
  
Gandalf shook his head. "Let us wait and see. I would choose that only if it is a matter of life and death. Fire can be seen for a very great distance." He looked thoughtful. "There are other ways, I think." He got to his feet and laid his hand on Aragorn's shoulder. "Hobbits are very resilient, my friend." Aragorn nodded and turned back to his pack, trying to prevent his feelings of guilt from keeping him from focusing. He tried to remember everything he had been taught about broken limbs and emotional trauma.  
  
Legolas stopped a dozen feet from the ledge and looked up. "Boromir, pull Pippin up. This last part is too steep for him." He rested his left hand firmly on Pippin's back, supporting him as Boromir pulled him quickly to the top.  
  
Without taking the time to untie the blanket from Pippin's belt Boromir pulled the young hobbit into his arms and carried him to the back of the ledge where Sam had laid out blankets and bedrolls. Boromir could feel Pippin shaking with cold, and was dismayed at his silence.  
  
Boromir sat Pippin down on the blanket next to Merry and removed Pippin's cloak and jacket. "His shirt is dry, Merry, but his trousers are damp from the snow. Get a dry pair and then we can wrap him up in blankets and get him warm." Boromir kept his voice low and soothing. "Here you, go, Pippin, we'll have you warmed up in just a few minutes." He untied the blanket from Pippin's belt but let the hobbit continue to hold onto it. He had seen trauma before and knew that everything had to be taken slowly. He unclasped Pippin's belt and scabbard and set them aside.  
  
Merry worked silently to help Boromir, nearly beside himself with worry. Why won't he talk? He's so cold, what can we do? They wrapped the shivering hobbit in two layers of thick blankets, and Boromir then unhooked his own fur-lined cloak and used that as a final wrap. He brought the bundle of hobbit into his lap and pulled the fur hood down a bit over Pippin's face. "Merry, come here," said Boromir. "Hold him. Stay still and quiet, we're just going to hold him between us. We'll keep him warm and help him to feel safe." Merry scooted over and wrapped his arms around Pippin, nestling against him.  
  
Pippin sat quietly, shaking and confused. Was it over? He couldn't move, he didn't want to move, everything was still and dark and people were holding him and nothing was moving, not even the tiniest bit. They wouldn't let him fall. Nothing could happen as long as he didn't move. He slowly let himself relax a little into the dark stillness. Then a little more. As the cold subsided it was replaced by a warm drowsiness.  
  
After awhile Merry felt Pippin's shivering stop, his breathing grow steadier. "I think he's asleep," said Boromir softly.  
  
Merry slowly sat up and took a deep breath. He could see Aragorn working on Frodo just a few feet away. They would both be all right, wouldn't they? He felt relieved and frightened at the same time, and suddenly couldn't hold back any longer. Throwing himself down next to Boromir, he began to sob uncontrollably. Boromir pulled over another blanket and laid it over Merry. He would do everything in his power to help these little ones recover. He had heard what Aragorn said to Gandalf earlier, but the Ranger was mistaken. Boromir knew this incident was not Aragorn's fault. He knew it was his.  
  
** TBC ** 


	5. Preparation

You folks encourage me so much! Hope you continue to enjoy. (For those who've asked, I'll be explaining why Boromir feels guilty, but it may take awhile to get to it.)  
  
PLEASE NOTE: I am not a medical professional and do not claim to be. This is a work of fiction. No medical treatment or description of physical or emotional injury in this story should be taken as anything more than the author's own opinions and plot devices.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Of course. The characters don't belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.  
  
___________________________  
  
AVALANCHE  
  
Chapter 5 --- Preparation  
  
  
  
As soon as Pippin was safely up, Legolas was able to wrap both arms around Frodo and make his way to the top of the ledge. Aragorn and Sam were waiting for him, and led him back to where Sam had arranged the blankets and bedrolls.  
  
"I could find no physical injuries on Pippin, Aragorn, but you should check him yourself."  
  
The Ranger nodded. "I'll do that later." He helped Legolas lay the unconscious hobbit down. Sam pulled over a pile of blankets and sat down next to them.  
  
"Just tell me what you need, Strider," he said quietly, his eyes glued to Frodo's pale face.  
  
"I will, Sam," said Aragorn. He checked Frodo's pulse and breathing, then turned to Legolas. "Tell me."  
  
Legolas started to remove Frodo's cloak. "He hit his head on that boulder. There, on the left side. He stayed conscious as long as he could, mostly to comfort Pippin, I believe." He slid a hand behind Frodo's head and lifted it slightly, removing the scarf as Aragorn began to unbutton Frodo's jacket. "His left wrist appears to be broken, Aragorn. I couldn't find any other injuries but he was feeling too ill to tell me much."  
  
Aragorn nodded as he eased the left sleeve of Frodo's jacket gently over his hurt wrist and put the jacket to one side. He took one of Sam's folded blankets and laid Frodo's left arm on it, keeping it elevated.  
  
"You did well, Legolas. Did he know where he was, who you are?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Aragorn turned to Sam. "The first thing we need to do is get him dry and warm. He needs dry trousers, anyone's will do. I don't want him to get pneumonia on top of everything else." Sam grabbed Frodo's pack and started pulling out clothes. Aragorn quickly unbuckled Sting, then removed Frodo's breeches and heavy underdrawers, both soaked through from the snow. He gently pressed a blanket around Frodo's legs and bottom, making sure they were as dry as possible, then pulled up fresh breeches and covered Frodo with several layers of blankets.  
  
"Sam, he might still be feeling sick when he wakes. Why don't you bring over one of those basins just in case." Aragorn knelt over Frodo. "All right now, let's see what we've got," he murmured. He ran his fingers over the swelling under Frodo's curls. Frodo groaned faintly but didn't open his eyes. Slowly and carefully, Aragorn checked Frodo's neck, chest, back, legs, and feet, replacing the blanket coverings as he checked each area for injuries as best he could. Finally he pushed Frodo's left shirt sleeve as far up as it would go, revealing the swollen, bruised wrist.  
  
"It does look broken," Aragorn said. "The snow has probably kept the swelling down somewhat, which is good. Let's see now...." He very carefully felt along the bones in the tiny wrist, trying to determine how bad the break might be. Frodo moaned, then suddenly stirred and cried out as Aragorn touched one spot. The Ranger immediately stopped his probing and laid Frodo's arm back down on the folded blanket as Frodo's eyes fluttered open.  
  
"Mr. Frodo?" Sam reached under the blankets and took Frodo's right hand. "We're getting you warmed up, sir, and Strider is tending to you." He felt Frodo squeeze his hand slightly.  
  
"Frodo," Aragorn said softly, "Tell me how you feel."  
  
Frodo blinked, focusing with an effort on the Ranger's face above him. He swallowed hard, fighting down the nausea he still felt.  
  
"Where's Pippin?" he whispered.  
  
"He's here," Aragorn said. "Boromir and Merry are taking good care of him."  
  
Frodo nodded, then grimaced. "I.. feel sick.." Aragorn immediately wrapped his arms around Frodo and turned him on his left side, keeping his hurt arm resting on the folded blanket. He held Frodo up a bit and supported his head as the hobbit vomited into the basin Sam pushed beneath his head. When it was over Frodo was starting to shake, but Aragorn wasn't sure whether it was from the beginnings of shock or the cold. He laid Frodo back down and covered him again, pulling a third blanket over him.  
  
"Give me a cloth, Sam, soaked in water." Sam handed Aragorn one of the cloths and the Ranger wiped Frodo's mouth, pressing a trickle of clean water between his lips.  
  
"Frodo, I know you're feeling ill. I know your head hurts as well as your wrist. Tell me, do you feel pain anywhere else?"  
  
"No," whispered Frodo. "Just so dizzy... I'm sorry, Aragorn, I know we don't have time for----"  
  
"Frodo, you are the reason we're all here. We'll make time." Aragorn laid his hand on Frodo's brow and stroked it gently. "I need you to listen to me very carefully. Can you do that?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Your wrist is broken, and I need to bind it up before the sun sets and it's not light enough for me to see clearly." He smiled at Frodo, trying to sound reassuring. "You were lucky, it seems to be a clean break, and your wrist just has to be immobilized for awhile so it can heal. I've seen how fast you can heal, little one. But binding it up is going to hurt, even worse than it does now. I'll be as quick as I can."  
  
"Can you give him something, Strider?" Sam asked.  
  
"Not yet," said Aragorn, looking into Frodo's eyes. "I don't want to give you anything to put you to sleep because of your head injury. It's just not safe yet. I'm sorry, Frodo, I just can't. Soon we'll have you all wrapped up and warm, as comfortable as we can make you." He brushed a few curls away from Frodo's forehead and smiled. "This was very clever of you, you'll probably be warmer than you've been in days."  
  
Frodo looked at him. "Aragorn, don't let me.." His breathing grew a bit quicker. "Don't let me make any.. noise. I don't want to scare Pippin."  
  
The Ranger nodded, impressed anew with Frodo's courage and selflessness. "All right." He looked around. "Gimli, I need you to help us."  
  
The Dwarf came over from where he and Gandalf had been talking quietly, and sat down. "Gandalf will keep watch for awhile," he said. "How are you, Master Baggins?"  
  
Frodo tried to smile at him, but a fresh wave of dizziness forced him to close his eyes for a moment.  
  
"All right," said Aragorn, pulling his supplies close to him. "Gimli, I don't want Frodo to move when I'm binding up his wrist. Just press gently on his shoulders and keep him still." The Dwarf nodded.  
  
"Legolas, when I ask you, put.." Aragorn sighed. "Put your hand over Frodo's mouth. Just in case."  
  
"Strider!" Sam was indignant.  
  
"It's all right, Sam," said Frodo. He was trying to be brave, but suddenly all of this was sounding a bit frightening. "Just hurry, Aragorn."  
  
"I will. And Sam, maybe you can----"  
  
Frodo's right hand had found Sam's again, and their fingers entwined. Sam smiled at his friend and took his hand in both of his. "I think I'll just stay right here, Strider," he said softly.  
  
  
  
** TBC ** 


	6. Elvish Medicine

Lilybaggins: Chapter 5 was "delicious"? I hope you find Chapter 6 equally tasty!  
  
Niphrandl: I know you're worried about Pippin, but hang in there just a little longer...  
  
  
  
PLEASE NOTE: I am not a medical professional and do not claim to be. This is a work of fiction. No medical treatment or description of physical or emotional injury in this story should be taken as anything more than the author's own opinions and plot devices.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Of course. The characters don't belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.  
  
____________________________  
  
AVALANCHE  
  
Chapter 6 --- Elvish Medicine  
  
  
  
Aragorn looked behind him for a moment and was enormously impressed with what he was seeing. He could not have prescribed any better treatment for Pippin than the gentle handling Boromir was giving him. The young hobbit appeared to have fallen asleep in Boromir's lap, swaddled in so many layers it was difficult to see him. Boromir was talking quietly to Merry.  
  
Relieved that for the moment he could give Frodo all of his attention, Aragorn turned back to the task at hand. He nodded to Gimli, who bent over Frodo and placed his hands on the hobbit's shoulders. Very gently (for a Dwarf), he pressed down and held the hobbit in place. Aragorn slid a smoothed splint of wood about 6" long, padded by soft cloths, under Frodo's left wrist and palm, then he placed a second padded splint on top of the wrist. Hobbit-sized splints; he had hoped they would remain useless baggage.  
  
Frodo, distracted for a moment by Gimli's beard brushing his face, failed to see Aragorn nod once to Legolas. The Elf leaned forward and pressed his left hand over Frodo's mouth just as Aragorn began to quickly wrap strips of cloth over and around the splints, wrist and fingers. Sam felt Frodo's hand press his a bit tighter.  
  
Just as Frodo was starting to think it wasn't going to be too bad, Aragorn started to work the cloths around the broken bone, wrapping well but not too tightly. Frodo flinched, then suddenly arched his head back, Legolas's fingers muffling a scream. Frodo clutched Sam's hand in a death grip as he tried to pull away from the pain, but Gimli held him fast.  
  
"It's almost over, Mr. Frodo," Sam murmured. If only I could take some of the pain on myself, he thought almost angrily. This isn't fair, it just isn't.  
  
It was agony to Aragorn to be causing Frodo pain, but he tried hard to concentrate on immobilizing the wrist without cutting off circulation to hand and fingers. Finally he was finished. "Let him go." Gimli sat back and Legolas removed his hand from Frodo's mouth.  
  
Frodo's head and wrist were both throbbing terribly, making the dizziness worse than before. Everything was starting to blur and spin. Aragorn laid his hand on Frodo's brow and bent close, brushing away a few tears that had leaked from Frodo's eyes.  
  
"It's all over, Frodo. I'm finished." He frowned. "Frodo?" Frodo's eyes had closed and his whole body was trembling. Aragorn pressed a finger to Frodo's throat, dismayed at how fast the hobbit's pulse was racing.  
  
Sam looked up, alarmed by the fact that Frodo's hand had gone limp in his.  
  
"Another blanket, Sam, we have to keep him as warm as possible," Aragorn said, and Sam quickly pressed another layer over Frodo. "Stay with us, Frodo," Aragorn said urgently. "Stay awake, little one." A sudden fear gripped him as Frodo's breathing started to grow shallow and labored. The hobbit seemed deathly pale. "He's going into shock."  
  
Sam heard something he didn't like in Aragorn's tone. "What's that?"  
  
"His blood pressure is dropping," Aragorn said. He raised Frodo's feet and slid another folded blanket under them, his mind racing to think of something else he could do.  
  
Sam wasn't sure what Strider meant, but there was no question in his mind as to what Frodo needed. "You can help, can't you?"  
  
Legolas was startled to find Sam staring straight at him. "What do you mean, Sam?"  
  
"Remember, Strider, when that Elf, Glorfindel found us? All he did was touch Mr. Frodo's wound and he felt much better, a lot warmer and stronger. Mr. Frodo told me about it." He was talking fast. "Can't you do that, Legolas? Can't all the Elves do that?"  
  
"I'm not trained as a healer, Sam, and I'm so young. Mortals aren't...I've never tried...." Legolas looked at Aragorn, puzzled. "What did Glorfindel do?"  
  
"That's all he did, he just touched Frodo where he was wounded. Maybe you *can* do something, Legolas. Just put your hands on him, see if you can calm and strengthen him. His heart and breathing need extra help right now." Aragorn looked down at Frodo. "I didn't realize... Legolas, we have to hurry."  
  
"I'll try." Legolas moved closer to Frodo and bent over him, putting one hand on Frodo's forehead and sliding the other under the blankets to rest on Frodo's chest. He closed his eyes and for the first time in his long life let himself open fully to the life force of one of the Secondborn. He felt the fragile, mortal life rushing beneath his hands, unlike anything he had experienced before. Unlike Elves, or even trees, with their slow, patient energy, this was frighteningly swift, moving at a speed he could barely comprehend. This was what it was like to be mortal, he realized. But there was weakness here, a faltering pattern. He let his own energy flow outward, cradling gently, as he would if he were letting a tree feel him, get used to his presence and rhythm. There was a blending. He felt Frodo's rhythm respond to his, rest in its calm current, absorb some of his strength.... that's it, little one.... that's it....  
  
"Legolas." Aragorn touched his arm gently. The Elf opened his eyes.  
  
Legolas looked down at Frodo. Although pale and unconscious, he was breathing easier and had stopped shaking. "Is he all right?" he whispered, somewhat in awe. He sat up, realizing that several minutes had passed.  
  
Aragorn pressed his fingers to Frodo's throat again. "Better," he murmured. He looked at Legolas. "Well done. He could have.." He stopped talking, remembering that Sam was listening. "He just needs rest now."  
  
"I knew you could do it," Sam said. He was smiling happily at Legolas, his faith in Elves unshaken. "I need to see to Bill, and get supper for everyone. I'll be back, Strider." He got up and walked over to where Bill was contentedly nibbling away on the low bushes growing out of the rock wall behind them.  
  
"Well done indeed, Master Elf." Gimli, still sitting on the other side of Frodo, gave Legolas the first approving look the Elf could remember getting from him. He, too, rose to his feet and left. Gandalf came over and knelt down next to Frodo. "How does he fare, Aragorn?"  
  
Aragorn tied a fresh sling of cloth about Frodo's neck and slid his bound wrist into it, then tucked the blankets back over him. "He can't be moved yet. I didn't realize how weakened he had become by the trauma from his injuries, not to mention the cold. Shock is very serious. If Legolas hadn't.." He sighed and laid a hand on Frodo's chest, reassured by the steady, even breathing.  
  
The wizard looked down at the unconscious hobbit. "How long?"  
  
Aragorn looked up. "I need to see to Pippin, we may have some... complications there. And Frodo must have complete rest. They each have trauma that will need healing. At least several days, I would think."  
  
"Aragorn----"  
  
Aragorn gave the wizard a firm look. "Several days, Gandalf." He looked back at Frodo. "At least."  
  
** TBC ** 


	7. Questions

Many thanks for your continuing support and kind words! I'm so encouraged that folks are enjoying this story, you cannot imagine. This chapter brings us back to Pippin.... and then back to Frodo...  
  
Floria Tosca: You've anticipated several of my upcoming plot points --- Stay tuned!  
  
Treehugger: I wrote and re-wrote the "Elvish healing" paragraph in Chapter 6 so many times I lost count, until it said exactly what I wanted it to. And then a compliment from Treehugger about my portrayal of an Elf... Be still my heart!  
  
  
  
PLEASE NOTE: I am not a medical professional and do not claim to be. This is a work of fiction. No medical treatment or description of physical or emotional injury in this story should be taken as anything more than the author's own opinions and plot devices.  
  
As the Fellowship begins its journey Pippin is 28 years old, a hobbit not yet "of age". I have chosen to write him as such; a tweenager trying to hold his own in a group of adults but still on shaky emotional ground in a lot of ways.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Of course. The characters don't belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.  
  
___________________________  
  
AVALANCHE  
  
Chapter 7 --- Questions  
  
  
  
Once he was certain that Frodo's breathing and pulse were stable, Aragorn turned to where Boromir still held Pippin on his lap. Their eyes met.  
  
"You are trained as a healer, Aragorn? I did not know that." Aragorn could see Boromir digesting this information about him.  
  
"And you as well," Aragorn answered, motioning to Pippin. "Your handling of this little one is most impressive. I have little experience with emotional trauma, and none with a person so young. It appears you have seen this before."  
  
"Yes," said Boromir, but said no more.  
  
Aragorn sat down next to Boromir. "I need to check him for any physical injuries Legolas may have missed." Boromir nodded and unwrapped his cloak and one of the blankets from around Pippin. He felt a stir as Pippin opened his eyes and looked around. Boromir immediately wrapped his arms around him.  
  
"It's all right, Pippin," he said in a voice gentler than any Aragorn had ever heard him use. "You had a good sleep. Aragorn wants to make sure you didn't get hurt in your tumble in the snow. I'm going to lay you down and he's going to check to make sure you're all right. We'll keep this blanket on so you're not too cold."  
  
Pippin looked at Aragorn and nodded, and Boromir laid the hobbit down next to him keeping the last blanket draped over him. "Just tell him everything you're going to do, Aragorn. Nothing sudden or startling." Boromir looked over to where Merry was talking with Sam. "Merry, would you join us?"  
  
Merry came over from where he and Sam had been preparing some food and slowly sat down next to Pippin and took his hand. "H'lo, Pip," he said. Pippin smiled at him but said nothing.  
  
Taking his cue from Boromir, Aragorn softened his voice and smiled at Pippin. "Pippin, I'm going to move the blanket a bit while I check you over, but I won't let you get too cold. You'll be all wrapped up warm again in a few minutes." He then ran his hands expertly down the hobbit's body as he had done with Frodo, checking for any broken bones or wounds. "Here, sit up now." The Ranger brought Pippin up to a sitting position.  
  
"May I have that?" Aragorn motioned to the end of the blanket 'rope' that the young hobbit was still holding. Pippin very slowly let go of it.  
  
"Thank you," said Aragorn, putting it to one side. He wrapped a blanket around Pippin. "I can't find a thing wrong with you," he said with a smile. "Does anything hurt?" Pippin shook his head, then noticed Frodo lying unconscious a few feet away. He looked back at Aragorn, wide-eyed.  
  
"Frodo got hurt," said Aragorn gently. "He hit his head and broke his wrist." Pippin got tears in his eyes as he stared at his cousin. Aragorn tried to distract him. "Are you hungry?" Pippin immediately looked back at him and nodded vigorously, but his eyes kept drifting back to Frodo.  
  
At that moment Sam came over with cheese, bread, and dried meats for them and laid it out on a blanket. Pippin ate ravenously while trying to hold the blanket around himself.  
  
Merry, watching his cousin worriedly, at last could stand it no longer.  
  
"Why won't he say anything?" he blurted out.  
  
Aragorn and Boromir exchanged a look, and it was Boromir who answered. "Merry," he said softly, knowing that Pippin was listening, "Sometimes unexpected and frightening things happen and our thoughts get all jumbled up. It's hard to make words out of them." He stroked Pippin's curls. "When Pippin feels safe and everything calms down inside him, he'll be able to tell us anything he wants."  
  
Merry looked down, thinking about this. He rose to his feet. "Strider," he said, "Could we talk over there?" He pointed to where Bill was drinking water out of a basin.  
  
Aragorn got up and accompanied Merry far enough away so Pippin wouldn't hear them.  
  
"Strider," whispered Merry urgently, "We're *not* safe. We're not going to *be* safe, either."  
  
"I know, Merry," said Aragorn. "Pippin knows that too. He has to find the strength to keep going and not lose himself, no matter what happens."  
  
Merry sighed. "He's just a tweenager, Strider. That's hard to learn."  
  
"He'll have to learn from us, won't he?" Aragorn put his hand on Merry's shoulder. "Even with all he's seen so far, I suspect he's too young to have thought anything would ever happen to him. But it may be his youth that will help the most right now. I doubt anything can keep Pippin silent for long!" He grinned, and Merry gave him a small smile.  
  
"Now come on," said Aragorn, giving Merry a little push. "You must be hungry as well. Let's see if Pippin's left us anything."  
  
  
  
Frodo woke slowly, at first aware only of throbbing pain in his left wrist. Gradually he realized that he was lying down, that things were quiet. He opened his eyes. The sun had set hours before and a dark, cold night surrounded him. He started to look around, but as soon as he moved his head a sharp pain seemed to shoot through it. He cried out suddenly. His eyes fluttered closed and he nearly lost consciousness again.  
  
"Frodo." He felt a hand at his brow, heard Legolas's quiet voice. "Don't move, Frodo, just lie still."  
  
"Hurts.." He was unable to stifle a small sob.  
  
"I know," Legolas said. "Stay still, little one. Just breathe for a moment."  
  
Slowly the sharp pain eased a bit. Frodo took a deep breath, then another. "It's.... better." He opened his eyes again.  
  
"Aragorn said you need to drink as much water as you can. Will you try?"  
  
"I.. I'll try.."  
  
"Here, let me lift you a little. Just relax, let me do it." Legolas slid his arm beneath Frodo's head and shoulders, and slowly lifted him up a bit. Frodo had to close his eyes for a moment. There was so much pain... still so dizzy...  
  
Legolas held a water bottle to Frodo's lips and let the hobbit take several swallows. He waited a moment, then gave him several more. The water wasn't too cold; Frodo knew Legolas must have been holding it next to his own body to get it as warm as possible.  
  
"Say my name, little one."  
  
Frodo looked up at the blurred face. "Legolas."  
  
"That's right." Legolas put the water bottle down and picked up a small cup. "I have something else for you to drink. This should ease the pain, Frodo, and help you sleep." He brought the cup to Frodo's lips and tilted it slowly. Frodo swallowed something. Not water, something.... strange.  
  
Legolas lowered Frodo carefully back down. "Aragorn said to only give it to you if you knew who I was."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I do not know, you will have to ask him."  
  
"I can't... see too clearly. Glad I didn't.. call you Gimli."  
  
Legolas smiled. "It eases me greatly that you can jest with me."  
  
"Legolas, is it.... night?"  
  
"Yes. Gimli is on watch, and everyone else is asleep."  
  
"Pip?"  
  
"He's asleep as well."  
  
"Is he all right?"  
  
"He's still very frightened," the Elf said. "But he was not injured otherwise."  
  
"We.... we can't stay here, Legolas. We can't..."  
  
"Shhh, now." The Elf tucked the blankets closer around Frodo. "We'll talk about it tomorrow."  
  
"No stars..."  
  
"No, we do not have their comforting presence this night." Legolas did not add that Aragorn and Boromir suspected that a storm was nearly upon them.  
  
After a few minutes Frodo realized with relief that the pain in his wrist was starting to dull. He felt as if he was floating. "Had.. had a dream about you," he murmured.  
  
"Did you?"  
  
"It was hard to.... breathe. Then you were there, you... helped me...." Frodo tried to focus on Legolas's face. "You were all lit up, like... like now."  
  
"Lit up?"  
  
Frodo tried to concentrate, to explain, but his thoughts were growing sluggish. "You... you were..." His eyes slowly closed, his headache fading. Everything was fading. 'You..."  
  
"Relax, my friend," Legolas whispered. He wanted to know more, but he could see that the sedative Aragorn had prepared was taking effect quickly. "Sleep now."  
  
Frodo sighed deeply, sinking gratefully into oblivion.  
  
** TBC ** 


	8. Night Vigils

(** Pippin fans should not miss reading Baylor's "A Hobbit or Two in Their Care" **)  
  
Tigerlily Sackville-Baggins: How you honor me by comparing my story with "The Heir" by Goldenwolf! I regret that newer authors won't have the joy of reading her stories (yes, they've apparently disappeared without a trace). Thank you, thank you.  
  
When I began this story I had no clue it would be a long one, but apparently it's going to be QUITE long. I'm so thrilled you're enjoying it. There's so much more ahead for everyone --- and Frodo isn't out of the woods yet... far from it.  
  
All loose ends (Boromir's experience with trauma, Frodo's dream about Legolas, whatever else is lying around loose) will be resolved... eventually...  
  
Sorry this chapter is so short; I should have a much longer Chapter 9 posted by Friday.  
  
  
  
PLEASE NOTE: I am not a medical professional and do not claim to be. This is a work of fiction. No medical treatment or description of physical or emotional injury in this story should be taken as anything more than the author's own opinions and plot devices.  
  
As the Fellowship begins its journey Pippin is 28 years old, a hobbit not yet "of age". I have chosen to write him as such; a tweenager trying to hold his own in a group of adults but still on shaky emotional ground in a lot of ways.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Of course. The characters don't belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.  
  
___________________________  
  
AVALANCHE  
  
Chapter 8 --- Night Vigils  
  
  
  
About an hour later Aragorn came over to where Legolas was sitting.  
  
"You've had little rest," said Legolas quietly, as Aragorn sat down on the other side of Frodo. "Why don't you try to sleep a bit more?"  
  
"Perhaps soon," said the Ranger, also keeping his voice low. He noticed the empty cup. "He woke, then?"  
  
"Yes. He was in a great deal of pain. It was good you had prepared the drink for him."  
  
Aragorn nodded, checking Frodo's breathing. "He should sleep until morning. Tomorrow may be difficult for him." He frowned at the overcast sky. "For all of us." He pressed his fingers lightly to Frodo's right wrist. "His pulse and breathing are steady, but he's a little warm. I suppose that is to be expected. There might have been quite a high fever had the bone been more severely broken." He slipped a hand inside the sling and felt Frodo's fingers to check the circulation. Finally he sat back and sighed. "He was lucky, Legolas. They were both so lucky."  
  
The Elf nodded in the darkness. "It was more than luck, perhaps."  
  
"Perhaps."  
  
"Aragorn, why would you only allow Frodo the herb drink if he knew my name?"  
  
"That is why I came to check on him. Someone with a head injury must be roused at intervals to see if their thoughts and speech are clear. If not, it is often a sign of a more serious injury. I didn't want Frodo put into a deep sleep until I could be sure it would be safe for him to remain thus."  
  
"He said his vision was blurred."  
  
Aragorn nodded. "It will improve."  
  
"He is fortunate you are here."  
  
Aragorn glanced at him. "And you as well."  
  
Legolas rested his hand gently on Frodo's head. "He was not awake very long, but he said he remembered having a dream about.... me. I think he had some sense of what I was doing for him, but not consciously." Legolas looked at Aragorn. "What *did* I do?"  
  
"Don't you know?"  
  
"I merely..." Legolas gestured vaguely in front of him. "I extended my life force to his. Something.... something happened between us." He sighed. "Perhaps Sam was correct. I have had so little experience with mortals; perhaps all Elves can do this but we do not know it."  
  
Aragorn switched to Sindarin. "Frodo says Sam is *always* correct. Something he calls his 'plain hobbit sense'." He chuckled and glanced over to their right, where Sam lay buried in blankets. "I'm certain he's asleep, but... well, I've learned not to underestimate him. Any of them." His smile faded. "The hobbits are exhausted. These past days climbing have been difficult for them."  
  
"They have done well," said Legolas quietly, also switching to his native tongue. "They have surprised me, Aragorn. To undertake this venture in the face of such evil... Such tenacity and spirit. Why, even when Pippin complains, it is with such a good nature that..." Legolas's voice trailed off as he thought about Pippin.  
  
"It is that strength and spirit that must be reawakened in our young colleague," said Aragorn. "And I can think of no better role model than Frodo." He regarded the sleeping hobbit next to him and chuckled. "We may have to tie him down until he is well enough to continue. He knows we can ill-afford this delay."  
  
"Yes, he already said as much to me," agreed Legolas. He touched his hand to Frodo's cheek. "What must we do for him tomorrow?"  
  
"He may have difficulty staying awake, throughout one more day at least." Aragorn picked up the empty cup. "If he is too uncomfortable I will dilute the drink so it will hopefully dull the pain without putting him to sleep. It is most important that he drink as much water as possible, and perhaps he will be able to eat a bit. Above all he needs to stay warm and lie still." He looked up at the sky again. "There is snow in the air, Legolas, I can smell it. Sometime early tomorrow, perhaps. As there is almost no snow on this ledge, I hope this rock above will shield us from the worst of it."  
  
"Get some sleep, Aragorn," said Legolas. "Your skills will be needed tomorrow."  
  
Aragorn nodded. As Legolas had done, he reached down and touched Frodo's face. "This little one has endured so much," he murmured. "And we have scarcely begun our journey." He sighed and rose to his feet. Before he returned to his bedroll, his gaze fell on Pippin, asleep to their left as close to the rock wall as he could get. Merry was curled protectively around him, Boromir's fur-lined cloak tucked about both of them.  
  
  
  
After several more hours of quiet, Legolas stood up and walked soundlessly past his sleeping comrades to where Gimli stood some distance down the path. The Dwarf looked up in surprise as the Elf approached him.  
  
"Does not Boromir have this watch, Master Dwarf?" asked Legolas.  
  
"He does," said Gimli, "But I chose not to wake him." He was silent for a moment. "I saw how he was able to help young Peregrin earlier. It was quite remarkable." Gimli was uncomfortable sharing his thoughts with an Elf. "I am no healer and can do little to help, so I thought to let him sleep. Peregrin will need him tomorrow." He stare at Legolas almost defiantly. "There is no need to wake any of them. I will stand watch."  
  
Legolas regarded him thoughtfully. Perhaps there was more to this Dwarf than he had believed. "You say you can do little to help, yet I cannot think of a better gift to our Company than what you offer them this night."  
  
Gimli was startled at this unexpected comment. Perhaps Elves were not as ungracious as he had been taught. "How is Master Baggins?"  
  
"Aragorn prepared a mixture that has put him to sleep. He was in a great deal of pain." Legolas smiled. "He worries only about Pippin's well- being, and for this delay in our journey."  
  
"My father and cousins have spoken many times of their Grand Adventure with a brave and resourceful hobbit companion," Gimli chuckled. "And I now find myself in a similar situation."  
  
"Indeed." Legolas turned to go. "Come to me if you grow weary and I will relieve you."  
  
"I will do so."  
  
Legolas sat down again next to Frodo with his back against the stone wall. This day had brought much for him to think about, not the least of which was a new respect for the Dwarf who shared their journey.  
  
Frodo shifted slightly and moaned. Fearing that he was feeling pain even while asleep, Legolas reached over and stroked his forehead gently, whispering soothing words. Frodo quieted almost instantly, sinking more deeply into the drugged sleep.  
  
"Little one," Legolas murmured. "What happened between us?" That answer, at least, would have to wait. Making certain that Frodo was still warmly covered, he breathed deeply and let himself relax, shifting his attention until he settled, half dreaming, into a state of rest.  
  
** TBC ** 


	9. The Calm Before the Storm

Rose Cotton: I grew up with the original "Star Trek", but I didn't have the "Vulcan mind meld" in mind when I envisioned what happened between Legolas and Frodo. Throughout the trilogy Frodo has very vivid, prescient dreams, and I want to bring that into play in this story. He apparently senses more of the "unseen" than most mortals. (Regarding whether or not Sindarin would be Legolas's native tongue, my "Complete Guide to Middle Earth" lists Legolas as a Sindarin Elf; but your input about Silvan Elves seems valid as well! We may have to bring in someone like Treehugger to advise us.)  
  
Starfleet Hobbit: Not all reviews have to be "helpful" in the sense of giving an author ideas and input. "Helpful" can also (most definitely) mean being supportive and encouraging, which I always need and value! All feedback is appreciated and greedily devoured.  
  
  
  
PLEASE NOTE: I am not a medical professional and do not claim to be. This is a work of fiction. No medical treatment or description of physical or emotional injury in this story should be taken as anything more than the author's own opinions and plot devices.  
  
As the Fellowship begins its journey Pippin is 28 years old, a hobbit not yet "of age". I have chosen to write him as such; a tweenager trying to hold his own in a group of adults but still on shaky emotional ground in a lot of ways.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Of course. The characters don't belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.  
  
___________________________  
  
AVALANCHE  
  
Chapter 9 --- The Calm Before the Storm  
  
  
  
"Pippin." Pippin pulled the fur cloak up over his head. Aragorn pulled it down for a second time. "Pippin, wake up."  
  
Pippin opened his eyes to find Aragorn sitting next to him. Wide-eyed, he sat up and looked around. Had something else happened?  
  
"It's all right," said Aragorn softly. "Nothing's wrong. It's morning, and I need you to help me today. Frodo needs you."  
  
Pippin's gaze flew to where Frodo lay.  
  
"He's still asleep, but he'll be waking soon," said Aragorn. "You're the only one who can help, Pippin. Get your jacket and your cloak, and bring a blanket." Without another word he got up and walked away. If Merry was awake and listening, he made no sign.  
  
Aragorn returned to where he had been sitting with an assortment of bags and pots in front of him. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the young hobbit pulled on his jacket and fastened his cloak, then wrapped a blanket around himself. He made sure to tuck Boromir's cloak snugly around Merry before he came to join Aragorn. Pippin stayed close to the rock wall, never venturing more than a foot from it except when he had to veer around Bill.  
  
Aragorn had deliberately seated himself a dozen feet out from the wall. It took Pippin nearly a minute to reach him, and when he sat down he was breathing hard.  
  
The Ranger had been thinking long and hard about Pippin. Boromir's careful handling yesterday had no doubt kept the youngster from hysterics and more serious emotional trauma, but there was little time to spare to ease Pippin back from the frightened, hesitant state into which he had retreated. As soon as Frodo was well enough to be moved, either by being carried or perhaps riding on Bill, they had to press on. Pippin's world had tumbled out of his control. Something had to be done, and Aragorn knew that one way to get someone to feel calm and in control was to focus them on someone else. Someone who needed them.  
  
"Pippin, do you remember lunchtime yesterday?"  
  
The young hobbit nodded.  
  
"That's the last time Frodo had anything to eat. He's going to be in a lot of pain when he awakes and won't feel like eating, but he has to. We have to get him to eat somehow or he won't have the energy to stay warm and get better."  
  
Aragorn could see that Pippin was dismayed by how long it had been since Frodo had eaten anything. It had probably never occurred to him that a hobbit could even *live* a whole day without food.  
  
"Whatever we give him today has to be very simple, very easy to swallow. Chewing anything hard may make his headache worse. I've been soaking in water some of these dried apples and pears and other fruits. Now that the fruit is nice and soft, it has to be torn up into little bits, as tiny as possible." Aragorn took Pippin's hands and held his gaze. "You have to be my helper today, Pippin, because Frodo asked about you so many times last night. He needs to see you, to know that you're not injured. He has a lot of healing to do, and maybe we can take this one worry away from him. All right?"  
  
Pippin nodded again, then looked anxiously up at the sky and back to Aragorn.  
  
"Yes," said Aragorn. "We're in for some snow." He squeezed the hobbit's hands reassuringly. "No one will be taking any more tumbles, no matter how much snow we get." He got to his feet and Pippin reached for one of the softened apple slices.  
  
"Oh, and Pippin?" Pippin looked up to see Aragorn smiling at him. "Don't forget to leave some fruit for Frodo." Pippin bent his head and began his task, but not before Aragorn saw him smile. The Ranger looked up to see Boromir, who was talking with Gimli a short distance away, give him an approving nod.  
  
  
  
wandering... lost... "S. . Sam..."  
  
"Easy now, Mr. Frodo."  
  
With relief, Frodo heard Sam's voice through the fog. His head hurt.... his wrist.... "Sam?"  
  
"I'm right here, just lie still. Strider, he's waking up. Do you think...."  
  
The fog wanted to keep him. Frodo started to drift back into the darkness, but a familiar voice was urging him to wake, to open his eyes. The fog cleared. Someone was touching his face, saying his name. With an effort, Frodo opened his eyes.  
  
"That's it," said Aragorn with a smile. "That's it, stay with us." He waited until Frodo's eyes slowly focused on him. "Can you see me clearly?"  
  
Aragorn's face wasn't as blurred as Legolas's had been, but it was still hazy, wavering. "It's.. better.. than it was."  
  
"Good. Do you still feel sick?"  
  
"A little bit." Frodo tried to look around without moving his head. "Is it morning? The sun isn't----"  
  
"We're in for a bit of bad weather, I'm afraid." Aragorn picked up a water bottle and slid his hand behind Frodo's head. "And you're going to spend the day right here, getting as much rest as you can." He supported Frodo's head and shoulders while the hobbit drank thirstily, then lowered him back down.  
  
"Aragorn, I have to..." Frodo stirred restlessly. "I need to get up."  
  
Aragorn showed him an empty cup that he had brought over. "Whatever you need to do, Frodo, you're doing right here. Sam, would you leave us alone for a minute?"  
  
Frodo gasped as Sam smiled and walked away, then he stared at Aragorn in disbelief. "I, I can't..."  
  
"Yes, you can." Aragorn breathed on his hands to warm them, then reached under the blankets and gently pushed Frodo's breeches down. It took a little maneuvering to position the cup, and when Aragorn's hand slid under his bottom to lift it slightly, Frodo truly thought he would die of embarrassment.  
  
"Relax," said Aragorn softly. "Just relax, Frodo. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. I've been a healer for a long time." His calm voice finally helped Frodo relax enough to relieve himself into the cup. Aragorn set it aside and reached back under the blankets to pull Frodo's breeches back up. Frodo breathed a sigh of relief. Aragorn left to empty the cup and soon returned.  
  
"Frodo," said Aragorn, as he sat back down. "You need to drink as much water as possible today. So when you need the cup again, just tell me. Yes?"  
  
"Yes," Frodo sighed. "I don't like being so helpless."  
  
"I know, but it won't be for long."  
  
"Aragorn, we can't stay here. You know we can't. We have to keep going."  
  
Aragorn looked into the Ring-bearer's worried eyes. "We will, Frodo. But not just now." He bent over Frodo and carefully examined the swelling on his head. Frodo winced at the gentle touch.  
  
"The swelling's down a little, but I know it still hurts. You were thrown against that boulder rather hard."  
  
"If I hadn't..." Frodo's voice trailed off. If not for that boulder, he thought, Pip and I would both be dead.  
  
"Yes," agreed Aragorn quietly. "How does your headache compare to yesterday?"  
  
"I'm not sure," said Frodo, closing his eyes for a moment. "My whole head throbs so." He touched his left hand very carefully with his right, feeling the bandages. "My wrist hurts a lot. And I feel so weak, still terribly dizzy."  
  
Aragorn nodded. He folded the blankets aside and eased Frodo's wrist out of the sling. "Some of that weakness is because you haven't eaten anything since yesterday. I have just the thing for you."  
  
"Oh," groaned Frodo, "I'm not sure I can.."  
  
Aragorn delicately ran his fingers along Frodo's left arm and hand, avoiding the area of the broken bone for the moment. He wanted to check the swelling and adjust the wrappings, but decided to wait until Frodo had fallen back to sleep. He readjusted the sling and smiled, tucking the blankets back over Frodo.  
  
"I know you don't feel hungry, but I want you to try what my helper prepared for you." Aragorn motioned to someone out of Frodo's sight and Pippin came over, carefully holding a cup in his hand.  
  
"Pip!" Frodo held out his right hand and Pippin sat, put the cup down, then grabbed Frodo's hand with both of his and beamed at him.  
  
"Oh Pip, I'm so glad you're all right," said Frodo. Then he frowned. Could Pippin still not be talking? "Everything's all right, Pip," he murmured. "Everything's all right."  
  
"Here now, let's try this." Aragorn raised Frodo slightly and held the cup to his lips. Frodo smelled apples.. fruit.  
  
"Try to drink as much as you can. Pippin put tiny bits of soft fruit in the water which should give you some nourishment. Later on, we'll try something more substantial."  
  
Frodo drank slowly, finding the soft fruit easy to swallow. He was halfway through when an intense wave of dizziness made him close his eyes.  
  
"No more," he whispered. Aragorn settled Frodo back down, glad he had managed even that much of the fruit mixture.  
  
Frodo lay with his eyes closed, exhausted by the slight effort. Everything was spinning. As if from a distance he heard Aragorn's voice. ".... hear me, little one?" He wanted to answer, but thick tendrils of fog were wrapping around him once again. He felt fingers pressed to his right wrist, heard Aragorn talking quietly to someone. "...sleep again....have to expect..." He couldn't open his eyes... couldn't move... The fog held him in a heavy, relentless embrace, drawing him down deeper and deeper, until everything faded away and he knew no more.  
  
Aragorn laid his hand on Frodo's brow. There was still a slight fever, but nothing alarming as long as they didn't let him get chilled.  
  
"Pippin, every time he wakes we need to----" A sudden gust of cold air blew past them, stirring Frodo's curls, and Aragorn felt a shiver run through Frodo's body. Something cold and wet landed on his hand. Even as he looked up, the wind started to blow harder and snow began to swirl about them. The storm had begun.  
  
** TBC ** 


	10. The Guardians

I'm so thrilled you're all enjoying this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it! It's always nice to know there's a "niche" for Fellowship stories that focus on bonding and mutual support (and growth) in the face of every conceivable obstacle.  
  
Helga: Thank you for the compliment! I'm not a school counselor, but I get to be a "hobbit counselor" in my stories, which I adore. I'm so glad you think I'm doing a good job of it.  
  
Lilybaggins: I'm writing Chapter 11 with you in mind. (BTW, if this tale gives you even a small percentage of the enjoyment you've given me with your many wonderful stories, my debt to you will *begin* to be paid.)  
  
MagicalRachel: I broke your code and understood completely! What a hoot.  
  
Notqabluemaia: I am in total agreement with your assessment; I'm much more comfortable with dialogue and thoughts than with description (scenery, faces, etc.) and action. However, this is a great forum for us to use to improve our writing, and I'll keep your excellent comments in mind. Thank you!  
  
Rose Cotton: Reading a sentence in which I'm listed along with Budgie, Lily, and Claudia really made my day! Thank you so much.  
  
Treehugger: Many thanks for the Sindarin/Silvan information! (And Pippin will be talking again (of course) ... but not quite yet..)  
  
  
  
PLEASE NOTE: I am not a medical professional and do not claim to be. This is a work of fiction. No medical treatment or description of physical or emotional injury in this story should be taken as anything more than the author's own opinions and plot devices.  
  
As the Fellowship begins its journey Pippin is 28 years old, a hobbit not yet "of age". I have chosen to write him as such; a tweenager trying to hold his own in a group of adults but still on shaky emotional ground in a lot of ways.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Of course. The characters don't belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.  
  
___________________________  
  
  
  
AVALANCHE  
  
Chapter 10 --- The Guardians  
  
  
  
In just the few minutes it took the Company to grab gear and packs, Aragorn could feel the temperature starting to drop. The wind was beginning to blow quite strongly, its icy fingers already creeping within even the thickest cloak. Although it was just mid-morning, the sky had grown dark, clouds heavy with snow.  
  
Aragorn grabbed every blanket he could reach. Frodo was shaking with cold, and the Ranger was struck with a sudden fear that he would not survive this. Hypothermia in his already-weakened state could very well be more than he could endure. Sam, Pippin, and Merry, ignoring the wind, had moved to help him, but Aragorn stopped them.  
  
"Lie down next to Frodo, quickly. Merry, you as well." He pulled Frodo's blankets away for a moment while Pippin threw himself down on Frodo's right and wrapped himself around his cousin. Sam lay on Frodo's left, and Merry lay down next to Sam. "Hold onto each other, but be careful of Frodo's wrist. He needs you to help keep him warm." Aragorn covered all four of them with Frodo's blankets, then heaped more on top of them. He had to tuck the blankets underneath Pippin and Merry to keep the wind from blowing them away.  
  
Boromir, Legolas, and Gimli finished piling all the gear next to the wall and seated themselves next to Aragorn, keeping their backs to the wind and the hobbits in front of them, shielding them as best they could. Everyone had raised their hoods and was holding their cloaks tightly about them.  
  
"I understand now why this ledge is clear of snow," observed Gimli grimly. The thick snow was now blowing almost horizontally. "In a storm such as this, something about the shape of this rock wall and overhang funnels the wind directly through it."  
  
Aragorn looked up as Gandalf sat down on his right. "You said no fire unless it was life and death, Gandalf, but I doubt we could even keep one going in this wind." He lowered his voice. "Frodo was only able to stay conscious for a brief time as it was. If his body temperature drops too far and we cannot warm him, he may be too weak to regain consciousness at all." He shook his head in frustration.  
  
"Do not despair yet, my friend," said the wizard. "Frodo's strength is perhaps greater than any of us know. He will fight." He raised his staff. "And we will fight for him."  
  
Gandalf held the staff out in front of him, and positioned it so that the tip was suspended midway between the seated companions and the mound of hobbits. He began to chant, words pouring forth in an almost inaudible whisper. Aragorn could make out nothing except for the word "Anor", but beside him, Legolas gasped and bowed his head.  
  
The tip of the staff began to glow, shining with a gentle light. Slowly the radiance grew brighter until it was burning with a fierce incandescence almost too bright to look upon. Heat began to radiate outward from the staff until all who felt it could close their eyes and well imagine sitting in front of a well-tended campfire. It was almost as if the sun itself had fallen into their midst.  
  
"At night," said Gandalf, "This would be too great a risk; but in daylight, such as it is, especially in such weather, we can hope to go unnoticed. It is unlikely any spies of the Enemy are aloft or about in such a storm."  
  
Pippin was the first of the hobbits to poke his head out of the blankets and gaze about in amazement. Merry and Sam soon followed, and indeed everyone was astonished. The icy wind continued to blow, but the small area in which the Company huddled was bathed in relative warmth. Bill had edged closer to the seated companions, as delighted as the rest of the Company to be feeling warmer.  
  
Once Aragorn shook off his initial surprise, he lost no time. "We need to bring all the water bottles here, as well as some of the food. Fill all the pots and basins with snow and bring them here as well. We must take advantage of the heat while we have it." Everyone moved quickly to help, except for Pippin and Sam who would not leave Frodo. Aragorn turned to Gandalf. "Thank you," he said, "How long can you do this?"  
  
"Even in the daylight this is a risk," said the wizard, "but if Frodo needs warmth, he shall have it."  
  
Aragorn knelt quickly to check on Frodo, who lay pale and unmoving except for the chills that still shook him despite the worried hobbits holding him between them. The heat from Gandalf's staff was strong and steady. "Soon I hope to get a warmed drink into him, but right now just hold him close." Aragorn rearranged the blankets so Frodo was still well covered, and Pippin and Sam entwined themselves even more determinedly around him.  
  
Sam was growing more concerned about Frodo by the minute, and he found himself regarding Gandalf a bit critically. "That staff is truly a wonder, sir," he said. "But meaning no disrespect, why haven't you done this before? I mean, we've been on this mountain for days."  
  
Glancing around, Gandalf could see that Sam wasn't the only one with that question in his mind. He thought about how best to answer.  
  
"Sam," he said seriously, "Do you remember what Elrond said about how Frodo was to safeguard the Ring?"  
  
"Yes," Sam answered. "He said Frodo wasn't to cast it away, or deliver it to the Enemy, or to let anyone else handle it... except in greatest need."  
  
"That's right," said the wizard approvingly. "Except in greatest need. Frodo is a guardian, Sam, of a power almost beyond comprehension. To use it is to risk much." He was silent for a moment. "I, too, am a guardian," he said. "Or perhaps it would be more accurate to call me a servant." Sam was startled at the word. "I do not call upon that which I serve unless there is great need, until there is no other alternative." He was looking at Sam intensely. "When difficult choices are necessary they must be made, but only when the need outweighs the possible risk."  
  
Sam nodded, trying hard to understand. He felt there was something Gandalf was trying to tell him, and him alone, but he would think about it later. He was suddenly distracted by the quite unmistakable sound of a Dwarf... snoring. The combination of warmth and a sleepless night had lulled Gimli into a sound sleep, his head fallen forward onto his luxuriant beard.  
  
"He took no rest last night," said Legolas quietly. "He wanted to let everyone sleep."  
  
"I know," said Boromir. "I asked him why he did not wake me for my watch." He thought for a moment. "I do not believe this is the first time he has done this."  
  
"It is a kindly act," said Legolas, "and a noble one." He rose to his feet and draped one of the blankets about the Dwarf. Everyone exchanged looks, a bit amazed at the Elf's uncharacteristic words and action.  
  
Snow was soon melting in the pots and basins, Merry diligently replacing the snow as it melted, and the water in each bottle was soon quite warm. Aragorn put a quantity of dried broth mixture from one of the food bags into a mug and added some of the warmed water.  
  
"Pippin, let me sit next to Frodo," said Aragorn. The young hobbit let Aragorn take his place, and then saw Gandalf beckoning him to his side. If that wasn't enough of a surprise, he was astonished when the wizard held his staff out to him.  
  
"My old arms aren't as strong as they used to be," said Gandalf. "Perhaps you can hold this for a few minutes and keep us warm, while I rest."  
  
Pippin could scarcely believe this was happening. Gandalf never gave his staff to anyone; none of them had ever entertained the notion of even touching it. He grasped the gnarled wood firmly, his tiny hands barely encircling it. Boromir caught Gandalf's eye and gave him an approving nod.  
  
"Peregrin Took," said the wizard, holding the young hobbit's wide-eyed gaze, "The well-being of this Company is in your hands. At this moment you, too, are a guardian of great power, charged with our lives and safety."  
  
Pippin was nearly overwhelmed by this evidence of the wizard's trust. "...charged with our lives and safety..." He didn't feel safe and he wished he did, so very much. But it was beginning to occur to him that no one else felt safe either. How did they bear it? He looked around and saw Gimli, wrapped in the blanket Legolas had draped around him. The Dwarf had let them all sleep while he stood alone for hours in the cold. Boromir had Merry's hands captured in his large ones, warming them, after his cousin had braved the cold wind again and again to bring back snow for the basins and pots. Sam was holding Frodo, and Strider was going to try to wake him so he could drink something warm and nourishing. They were all helping each other.  
  
Gandalf trusted him, but he didn't trust himself. Not yet. The way Frodo was shivering on the outside was how he had been feeling on the inside, ever since the accident. He felt fragile and afraid, and he didn't like it. He wanted it to stop. Slowly, imperceptibly, deep down inside him the unquenchable and resilient fire of the Took spirit was rekindling. It was not going to stand still for this much longer.  
  
** TBC ** 


	11. Little One

I can't properly express my gratitude and utter joy regarding the incredible response to this story. Thank you *so* much for your encouragement and support.  
  
  
  
For everyone waiting (patiently and impatiently) for Pippin to start talking again, it'll just be two more chapters, I promise! (Chapter 13, which I'm currently writing). I'm not deliberately trying to delay things; it's just taking me longer than I thought it would to get the story to that point.  
  
Ariel: May your "inner purist" stay ever-vigilant! (You'll see in Chapter 12 that Gandalf *was* concerned about using Magic; and that perhaps his choice to use it wasn't without risk after all..)  
  
GreyLadyBast: I love hearing from you! Gosh, I'm as prone to "canonical errors" as anyone. (A reviewer pointed out such a glaring one in my vignette "Guarding the Shire" that I'm currently revising the story. And I discovered one in "Reunion at Cormallen" that NObody caught! It's still there...) On the other hand, Gandalf never said his staff couldn't heat up, he just said that in order to make *fire* (which I interpret as setting something on fire) he had to have something to burn. Somehow I think this "servant of the Secret Fire" has a lot more at his command than he ever let on, but please continue to scrutinize!  
  
Robin Gurl: Thank you for asking if you could host "Avalanche" at your site. I have to say "not at this time," but I appreciate the request. (I'm very territorial about stories still "in progress"!)  
  
SapphireMeriadocTook and Whispers of a Nameless Fear: I'm incredibly flattered that someone is checking every day to see if my story has been updated! That is such a compliment.  
  
Treehugger: Many thanks for passing along the Sindarin for "little one"!  
  
  
  
PLEASE NOTE: I am not a medical professional and do not claim to be. This is a work of fiction. No medical treatment or description of physical or emotional injury in this story should be taken as anything more than the author's own opinions and plot devices.  
  
As the Fellowship begins its journey Pippin is 28 years old, a hobbit not yet "of age". I have chosen to write him as such; a tweenager trying to hold his own in a group of adults but still on shaky emotional ground in a lot of ways.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Of course. The characters don't belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.  
  
___________________________  
  
AVALANCHE  
  
Chapter 11 --- Little One  
  
  
  
Frodo drifted through a hazy twilight, dimly aware of pain, arms around him, Sam's voice... Everything slid away for awhile, then he felt himself being lifted, slowly brought to a sitting position. He was rested up against someone and a strong arm held him. He waited for the swirling darkness to swallow him up again, but instead, the haze thinned and grew brighter. He felt heat on his face, but he was cold, so cold. Someone was touching his cheek, calling his name. Bright, hot. Why was it so bright?  
  
"Frodo," Aragorn urged. "Frodo, I need you to wake up." With his left arm securely around the hobbit, he patted Frodo's cheek with his right hand and bent close. "Wake now, Frodo. Come, little one, wake up."  
  
Frodo groaned and opened his eyes to... he wasn't sure. Although he had thought he was waking, what he saw convinced him that he had not. Pippin stood before him, wreathed in brilliant light, holding Gandalf's staff. That would never happen. It was snowing, but the sun seemed to be shining. That was rather odd, as well. Such a strange, vivid dream.... The light burned into his aching head.  
  
"Too bright...."  
  
"Pippin, move a bit so the light isn't right in Frodo's eyes."  
  
Even wrapped in blankets, Frodo was shivering. "C. . Cold...." He felt a mug pressed to his lips, and smelled something... soup...  
  
"You need to drink this, Frodo, it will help warm you. Nice and slow."  
  
Frodo swallowed the warm, thick broth. It tasted wonderful. He tried to bring his right hand up out of the blankets, to hold the mug himself, but he couldn't move. His limbs felt heavy. To one side he saw Legolas adjusting a blanket that was draped around Gimli, who was sound asleep. He now knew without a doubt that he was dreaming. Snow and sun... and Pippin with a wizard's staff... He finished the broth, only half aware he was doing so.  
  
"Strange dream," he murmured.  
  
"Are you sure he's awake?" asked Sam, concerned.  
  
"Yes, Sam, although I suspect *he's* not sure." Aragorn chuckled, realizing how unusual the scene before Frodo's eyes must look. "If you woke up to see Pippin holding Gandalf's staff, you might think you were dreaming as well!" He held out the empty mug and Sam took it. "Would you make more of this? Lots of the broth mixture, more than usual, and the warmest water you can find."  
  
Aragorn found that his small charge had closed his eyes again and was starting to sag limply against him, still shivering.  
  
"Frodo, stay awake," he urged. The hobbit slowly opened his eyes again.  
  
"Dizzy...."  
  
"I know you want to sleep, Frodo, but you're not warm enough yet. You must stay awake a little longer." Aragorn took the mug Sam was holding out to him and held it to Frodo's lips. "Drink more, that's it."  
  
Frodo slowly drank the thick soup, this second mugful almost hot. It felt so good to have something warm inside him. The heat radiating from the staff and the warm broth finally began to lessen the deep, shuddering chills shaking his body. Aragorn kept urging him to drink until the second mug was empty as well.  
  
"Now some water," the Ranger said, bringing a water bottle up to replace the mug. Frodo obediently took a few swallows of the warmed water, just barely awake and wondering what would happen next. He watched dream-Pippin hand the staff back to dream-Gandalf. Frodo was a bit disappointed that the wizard didn't turn Pippin into a toad (or something even more interesting) for taking his staff, but it didn't matter. There seemed to be no danger lurking in this dream, just lovely warm light and images that made little sense.  
  
"Frodo, do you want to use the cup again? Like before?"  
  
Frodo thought about it. "All right." He didn't feel any embarrassment this time, not in front of dream-companions who would soon dissolve into nothingness. Aragorn settled him down on his lap into a half-lying position and Frodo heard soft voices. Being moved had made everything spin, and by the time the whirling settled down somewhat, Aragorn had unwrapped him from all but one blanket. This time it was Legolas who reached under the blanket and gently pushed down his breeches, and maneuvered the cup into position. Aragorn once again supported his bottom, his fingers warm and gentle, and Frodo relaxed and relieved himself.  
  
Aragorn chuckled. "That was easy. Now I *know* he thinks this is all a dream." Legolas pulled the small breeches back up and assisted Aragorn in re-wrapping Frodo in the layers of blankets.  
  
"Is he all right now, Strider? He's stopped shaking."  
  
"He's much warmer, Sam." Aragorn wasn't sure if Frodo felt warm because of the heat and layers of blankets, or if his fever was rising, but at least the chills had subsided. "He can sleep soon, but I'd like to keep him awake a few more minutes. Perhaps we can keep him talking, or----"  
  
"I will talk with him," said Legolas. He sat close to Frodo, still lying in Aragorn's lap, and stroked his face gently. "Are you with us, tithen min?"  
  
"Little one," Frodo repeated sleepily.  
  
"Do you wish me to stop calling you that?"  
  
Frodo looked up at dream-Legolas. "I.. I asked Aragorn once if he wanted Merry, Pippin, and Sam to stop calling him 'Strider'," he murmured. Sam and Merry exchanged looks; this was news to them. Pippin, leaning against Boromir, strained to hear.  
  
Frodo continued in a soft, sleepy voice, not at all concerned about what he was saying or which of these dream people was listening. "Aragorn said that in his life he had been called more noble names... with less affection and respect... and that he did not mind. I do not mind either, Legolas. I know you don't... I know you don't mean any...." He winced as the throbbing in his head started to grow worse. He was tired and dizzy, and didn't want to talk anymore. He could barely keep his eyes open.  
  
Legolas looked up. "I do not believe he can stay awake any longer, Aragorn."  
  
Aragorn nodded. "We've done what we can. There should be less danger in letting him sleep now." Aragorn smiled at Sam. "Perhaps less danger, as well, of him saying something else he'd probably rather not." Sam blushed, and Merry suddenly found it very important to re-arrange the position of some of the water bottles.  
  
The Elf bent over Frodo. He could see that the hobbit was exhausted and in pain, and he wished he could take it all away from him. "Little one...." Frodo smiled, hearing the phrase, and Legolas smiled back. "You can sleep now, little one. You did very well. Sleep now." Frodo sighed and closed his eyes, letting the strange dream fade and dissolve.  
  
Aragorn pressed his fingers lightly to Frodo's throat and noted his deep, even breathing. When he was certain Frodo was asleep, he eased the hobbit down off his lap and folded the blankets away from the hurt left arm.  
  
"This is a good time to see to his wrist," said Aragorn, easing Frodo's bandaged wrist out of the sling. He carefully unwrapped the cloths and removed the splints. The tiny wrist was discolored and swollen, but Aragorn seemed satisfied.  
  
"There is not as much swelling," he said to Sam. "And there is no heat or redness in the arm." He replaced the splints and began to re-wrap the cloths. Suddenly Merry was at his side.  
  
"Do you truly not mind when we call you Strider?" Merry asked, concerned. "I never thought about----"  
  
Aragorn looked at him sternly. "You may call me 'Aragorn' when you are very, very angry with me," he said. He smiled suddenly. "Is that clear, Meriadoc?"  
  
Merry grinned, then laughed. "It certainly is... Strider."  
  
Aragorn chuckled, continuing to bind up Frodo's wrist. "I'm glad that's settled." He finished and sat up, looking around. The storm gave no sign of ending anytime soon.  
  
"Strider," said Sam urgently. Aragorn looked at him. "How is he?"  
  
Aragorn hesitated for a moment, which made Sam wonder what he was about to hear. Everyone was listening.  
  
"His wrist just needs time to heal, Sam," Aragorn began. "It's a clean break with no complications. Time is also the best medicine for any head injury. He needs rest, and we need to keep him warm and well tended." He smiled. "By tomorrow I suspect he will be much improved, and insist he is well enough to travel, but we should only resume our journey tomorrow if we are hard-pressed to do so." He sighed. "Even if we are able to give Frodo another full day of rest, it will be barely enough time for him to recover enough to travel. But we dare not delay any longer than that."  
  
Sam was watching Aragorn closely, and he wasn't satisfied. "There's something else, isn't there?"  
  
"Yes, Sam. It's this storm.... the cold." Aragorn looked around, and realized it was time to share his thoughts with everyone. "Frodo has a slight fever, and he must not get chilled again. Since he can't move around, or eat too much yet, he doesn't have the energy to stay warm and fight off the cold; we will have to do that for him. All of his energy must go toward healing, and regaining his strength. But even when we can travel again, whether it is tomorrow or the day after, there is a good chance of more storms higher up on the mountain. And it will be even colder. I'm beginning to think..."  
  
"What?"  
  
Aragorn glanced at Gandalf, and then back at Sam. "I think we need to get Frodo off this mountain."  
  
  
  
** TBC ** 


	12. Seeing Stars

Now that I've regained consciousness after my dead faint and picked myself up off the floor and pinched myself, I'm sending you all a virtual hug and balloons and THANK YOU for (am I dreaming?) OVER 200 REVIEWS!!!! My gosh.  
  
  
  
A Elbereth: I've posted 14 stories on ff.net, and I never once thought to list them "by character". Thanks for the nudge, I've finished listing most of them now!  
  
Lindriel: Be as repetitive as you like! I am most humbly grateful for such lovely comments.  
  
OrlisGothicElf: Nearly a year ago when I began reading fan fiction, especially very popular stories, I, too, used to think, "Look at all those reviews; that author certainly doesn't need one more." I could not have been more wrong; the give-and-take, the feedback, the knowledge that folks are enjoying (or even criticizing) a story brings us together in a supportive "fellowship" of creative writing and love for Tolkien's works. I've gotten so many ideas for chapters/stories from thoughtful reviewers, as well as a feeling of "belonging" to a group that shares my interest. So I'm glad you reviewed, and hope you will continue to let authors know that you're enjoying their work! (The possibility that the Company wouldn't have been that concerned about Pippin's well-being may be true for other stories, but not mine. I tend to write primarily about bonding, learning, healing, and true "fellowship" in adversity.)  
  
P.N. Batgirl: Thank you for commenting that I always have "a new spin on something." In order for me to have the courage to post (or even start to write) a story, I have to feel that I have something to share that might be different or of interest!  
  
Robin Gurl: You may certainly print out "Avalanche" --- I'm still amazed that I'm writing a story people want to print out, or host, or read over again...! (BTW, is "Snowball Fight" the other "favorite story" you mention in your review? It's surely one of *my* very favorites.)  
  
TrueFan: The 200th reviewer!!! Please let me assure you that, as the Summary states, there is no slash (implied or otherwise) in my story, and no interchange between members of the Fellowship should be interpreted as such. (And many thanks for your comments on "Whispers of the Dragon" --- much appreciated!)  
  
  
  
PLEASE NOTE: I am not a medical professional and do not claim to be. This is a work of fiction. No medical treatment or description of physical or emotional injury in this story should be taken as anything more than the author's own opinions and plot devices.  
  
As the Fellowship begins its journey Pippin is 28 years old, a hobbit not yet "of age". I have chosen to write him as such; a tweenager trying to hold his own in a group of adults but still on shaky emotional ground in a lot of ways.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Of course. The characters don't belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.  
  
___________________________  
  
AVALANCHE  
  
Chapter 12 --- Seeing Stars  
  
  
  
The storm raged for seven hours, during which the temperature plummeted even further as the icy wind blew relentlessly. Everyone took turns holding Gandalf's staff, which burned with a steady, powerful radiance without which Aragorn feared the hobbits, at least, might have come close to freezing to death.  
  
The companions huddled together and talked, sharing food and stories and tales of their homes. In between meals, Pippin couldn't keep still. Time and again he got up, paced about for a while, and sat down, only to get restlessly to his feet again a short while later. Something was apparently stirring powerfully inside him, but no one knew quite what it was. Merry kept hoping that at any moment Pippin might burst into song, or feel the need of a proud retelling of the genealogy of the Tooks, but his cousin had remained silent.  
  
Frodo lay in a deep sleep, at all times with one, and sometimes two people at his side holding him close and making sure he stayed as warm as possible. It was currently Pippin's turn, and he had burrowed so deeply into Frodo's blankets that he had finally fallen fast asleep in the warm darkness.  
  
Gimli had awoken abruptly after several hours. When Boromir simply handed him a mug of warm soup and some bread, and continued talking with Sam about Gondorian customs and traditions, the Dwarf was well pleased with himself that no one had seemed to notice that he had fallen asleep. He assumed they had all been too concerned about the weather, and for the well-being of Master Baggins who, he observed, had been all but disappeared under blankets, a lump he identified (by process of elimination) as Peregrin, and what appeared to be Boromir's cloak.  
  
Merry sat staring at his blanket-covered cousins, deep in thought. After awhile his gaze wandered to where Sam was trying to brush some of the ice off Bill's coat. If Sam had been bold enough to confront Gandalf, maybe it was time to...  
  
"Merry, are you all right?" Merry was startled to hear Boromir's voice break through his thoughts. Merry looked up at the Man, his face showing the anguish he had been holding back.  
  
"Nothing's working, Boromir," said Merry quietly, motioning to where Pippin lay. "We've all been kind and gentle and quiet with him, and he still won't talk to us. What do we do?" He leaned forward, now looking at Aragorn almost desperately. "What happens when we have to leave here and he won't go near the edge? Are you going to drug him and drag him up the mountain? Or is it down?"  
  
Aragorn exchanged a glance with Gandalf which told Merry that they had been considering exactly that.  
  
"No," Merry whispered urgently. "No. We have to think of something."  
  
"We will, Merry," said Aragorn. "We will. But I cannot help thinking that something will happen soon to bring him all the way back to us." He chuckled softly. "That hobbit simply cannot stay silent for too much longer. It seems contrary to nature."  
  
"Listen," said Legolas abruptly.  
  
Aragorn was instantly alert. "Another avalanche?"  
  
"It's the wind," said the Elf, listening intently. "It's dropping."  
  
Everyone looked up, and around. The snow was starting to lessen, and the wind was definitely easing up. Five minutes, ten, and the swirling snow finally stopped falling. Merry and Sam breathed audible sighs of relief.  
  
Gandalf gave his staff to Boromir to hold, and he and Aragorn walked away from the group and out to the rim of the ledge, now drifted with snow. In the fading light of early evening, they surveyed what they could see of the snow-covered landscape around and below them.  
  
"We may even get some stars tonight," said Aragorn after a long silence, gazing up at the rapidly-clearing sky. He looked back at Gandalf. "If the storm had continued into the night, Gandalf, what could we have done? I do not know if Frodo, or indeed any of the hobbits, could survive such a freezing wind without fire or warmth, but with a light so intense..."  
  
The wizard shook his head. "I do not know, my friend, although it was not simply the light I felt might reveal us. The wielding of Power can be felt on many levels. I suspect this dilemma will follow us throughout our journey. When a choice of safeguarding the Ring and its Bearer may cause us to reveal ourselves to unfriendly eyes..." He sighed. "I truly do not know."  
  
"Tomorrow we must see how difficult the trail will be," said Aragorn grimly. "Hopefully the snow has not drifted too deep. We cannot continue to the top of the pass, Gandalf, we must retreat. But when we do...." Aragorn shook his head. There was now only one other path left to take, and they both knew it.  
  
The evening was cold, but it was such a relief to have calm air and clear skies that even after Gandalf extinguished his staff the Company seemed to feel the warmth linger. Before the water in the basins and bottles grew cold again, Aragorn roused Frodo gently and urged him to drink once more. Frodo didn't fully awaken, but he drank enough to satisfy Aragorn before sliding back into sleep. Aragorn sat next to him for awhile, thinking, and Boromir came to join him. Pippin was still sound asleep somewhere in the mound of blankets.  
  
"You will need your cloak tonight, Boromir." Aragorn started to pull the cloak away from where it lay, enmeshed with the blankets. "It's going to be very cold."  
  
Boromir put out his hand and stopped Aragorn from pulling the cloak away from the hobbits. "In that case," he said quietly, "It will best serve where it is." The Man chuckled. "Perhaps I will stay close to it by sleeping here and helping keep Frodo warm."  
  
Aragorn smiled. "I will do that also. Legolas and Sam have claimed the honor as well, so perhaps you and I can take the first watch while they rest here and they can take the second."  
  
"Watch against what? What could be abroad after such a storm?"  
  
"We must remain vigilant," said Aragorn. "We are the Ring-bearer's only defense." He reached down and touched Frodo's face.  
  
"That is the third time you have checked on him this hour," Boromir said. "What do you fear?"  
  
"One more day of rest for him is not enough time, but it is all we dare take. Perhaps we should not take even that much time." Aragorn closed his eyes wearily and leaned back against the cold stone wall. "This fever would surely be gone had he not been so weakened by the cold," he said grimly. He opened his eyes and looked off into the distance. "We should never have come this way, Boromir. My choice has proven ill."  
  
Boromir was startled to hear such an admission. He had always believed that leaders should conceal from others all doubt and fear. This so-called Heir of Isildur was not as he expected him to be.  
  
"He seems a frail one," said Boromir, looking down at Frodo's pale face.  
  
Aragorn's thoughts flew back to how steadfastly Frodo had resisted the Shadows before he had been healed. How long, and how valiantly he had... His eyes met Boromir's. "He is not."  
  
  
  
Frodo awoke to soft singing, and he opened his eyes to a sky full of stars. Clear, glittering stars. Although relieved that things weren't blurred anymore, he felt confused and disoriented. Stars.... hadn't it just been morning? Carefully looking around, he saw no trace of the strange images he remembered. They had not been real, then. Pippin with the staff...  
  
"Pippin," he murmured.  
  
"He's asleep close by, Mr. Frodo," said a soft, familiar voice. "Everyone's all right."  
  
Sam was sitting to his right, smiling down at him. "H'lo." Frodo sighed. "Oh Sam, it can't be night. Did I really sleep all day?"  
  
"Strider said you'd most likely sleep a lot today. Are you feeling better?"  
  
"A little better, I think, just.... just terribly dizzy. My head still... still feels...." Frodo brought his right hand up and pressed it to his head. He looked down. "There's... there must be a dozen blankets on top of me."  
  
Sam grinned. "Not that many. But don't be startled, sir, if you wake up in the middle of the night and find folks sleeping here with you. Strider said whoever let you get chilled would spend the next week walking behind Bill."  
  
"Oh Sam," Frodo smiled back at his friend. "That's silly."  
  
Sam chuckled quietly. "Maybe so, but no one wants to be the one to go testing him on it."  
  
Legolas walked over with a water bottle and sat down, smiling at them. "Time for more water, Frodo," he said, and supported the hobbit as he drank.  
  
"Thank you." Frodo looked up at the Elf. "How odd, I keep dreaming about you."  
  
Sam and Legolas exchanged an amused look; neither wanted to be the one to tell Frodo that his second "dream" hadn't been a dream at all.  
  
"Why don't you tell me more about the first dream?" Legolas asked. "Do you remember it?"  
  
Frodo thought for a moment. "Yes," he said. "I remember feeling so sick, and Gimli was holding me down, and... suddenly the pain was so terrible..."  
  
"Forgive me, Frodo, you don't have to talk about this."  
  
"It's all right." Frodo took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I'm not sure what happened next.. did I faint?"  
  
Legolas and Sam exchanged another look, this one less amused. "Yes."  
  
"I fell.. into a freezing lake. It was dark, and so cold, I could hardly breathe. I think I was drowning. Then someone got hold of me, and pulled me to the surface. Suddenly the water wasn't cold anymore. It was warm, and I was just floating on my back, and it was easier to breathe. I opened my eyes, and you were the one holding me up, just keeping me floating in the warm water. You...." Frodo opened his eyes. "You were all lit up."  
  
Legolas leaned close. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Legolas, when I was at the Ford, and the Black Riders were on the other side of the river, I saw..." Frodo sighed. "Everything was starting to fade. I couldn't tell... what was real anymore. Almost the last thing I remember seeing was this person, made of light. Gandalf says I saw Glorfindel, the way he *really* is."  
  
Legolas frowned. "Frodo, you could not have seen me in that manner. Glorfindel retains the Light of Aman, and perhaps you are one who can see it, but I am not such as he."  
  
"It wasn't exactly like that. Not such a fierce, brilliant light. You were... it was gentle. You just held me up, and it was warm, and I knew I could just rest for awhile and I wouldn't drown." Frodo looked up at the Elf, concerned. "It was just a dream, Legolas. Have I said something to upset you?"  
  
"I am sorry, Frodo. No, of course not."  
  
"It was nice, when I woke up, that you were still there. And you were still all lit up. I don't know why."  
  
"I do not know why either. Am I 'lit up' now?"  
  
"No." Frodo yawned. "I have the strangest dreams sometimes, Legolas, so vivid."  
  
"Perhaps they are not just 'dreams'."  
  
Frodo smiled as Sam gently took his hand and held it. "I'm sorry, Sam, I know you would love to dream about Elves all the time."  
  
"That's all right," said Sam softly. He looked up at Legolas. "I never thought to be traveling about with one, and that's a fact. It's all been like a dream."  
  
Legolas's eyes glowed with pleasure at Sam's words. He brushed a few curls away from Frodo's forehead. "Do you think you can sleep a bit more?"  
  
Frodo sighed. "I don't want to be sleeping all the time, but I can't seem to stay awake. If things would just stop spinning..." His eyes were closing in spite of his efforts to stop them. "I'm glad you didn't let me drown," he murmured. "I'm glad you're here."  
  
"I, too, am glad I am here, little one."  
  
Frodo vaguely remembered talking with dream-Legolas about being called 'little one', but he couldn't bring it into focus. He felt so tired... "Would you sing some more?"  
  
Frodo felt a hand at his brow and a ripple of soft music that beckoned, guided. He tumbled gently downwards into a warm Spring evening, through a dream of fragrant trees, shimmering waterfalls, and jewel-like stars.  
  
*****************  
  
High above, concealed among snow-dusted bushes atop the overhang that partially shielded the ledge, a small flock of crebain waited in silence. Drawn to the Power emanating from the frozen pass, they had arrived unseen as the storm had dissipated over the mountain. Bred and trained by their master, larger and fiercer than many of their kind, the birds knew they had found what they sought. They heard the Man reveal that the Company would not be continuing upward. They heard one of the Istari speak of "the Ring and its Bearer." They needed only to hear which of the small ones carried it.  
  
** TBC ** 


	13. Mad Baggins

Ailsa Joy: Welcome! Let's see, how do I find the time? I think the best answer is that over the past few months I've pretty much replaced watching TV with thinking/writing about hobbits. (If it wasn't for "Smallville" and "Biography" I probably wouldn't need a TV at *all* anymore.)  
  
Heidi Gamgee: Wouldn't that make a great t-shirt?? "Hobbit cuddles are a necessary part of a balanced diet" --- you betcha.  
  
Helga: What a great story idea. You never know where things like that will lead...  
  
Lindriel: I'm so delighted that you're sharing this story with your younger brother. Please tell him I said "hello"!  
  
MarigoldG: I am deeply honored.  
  
Phoenixqueen: Honestly, if I could write faster I'd update faster! I really do try to update every Friday, even though I'm usually re-writing and polishing until the last second.  
  
Tangelian Proudfoot: Thank you! I'm learning a great deal while writing this story; more than with anything else I've written.  
  
Tathar: I don't think I've ever heard anyone call crebain "unappreciated" before! Maybe someone should do a vignette from their point of view....?  
  
Treehugger: Thank you profusely for the comments. It's definitely situations like these, the ones that stir things up, that can make or break a Fellowship. It's fascinating to explore them.  
  
Budgielover, Lily, everyone.... thank you SO much.  
  
  
  
PLEASE NOTE: I am not a medical professional and do not claim to be. This is a work of fiction. No medical treatment or description of physical or emotional injury in this story should be taken as anything more than the author's own opinions and plot devices.  
  
As the Fellowship begins its journey Pippin is 28 years old, a hobbit not yet "of age". I have chosen to write him as such; a tweenager trying to hold his own in a group of adults but still on shaky emotional ground in a lot of ways.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Of course. The characters don't belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.  
  
___________________________  
  
AVALANCHE  
  
Chapter 13 --- Mad Baggins  
  
  
  
"Just put me up on there, and let's see if it bears my weight."  
  
"All right, but be careful." Near the rim of their sheltered ledge, where a trail had once been visible, Aragorn lifted Merry as high as he could, and set the hobbit down on top of the ice-covered snow. In the early morning light it could be seen that the trail had disappeared under drifted mounds of newly-fallen snow, crusted over by the freezing night. Wondering anew how the hobbits could stand on snow and ice without freezing the bottoms of their feet, Aragorn very slowly let go of Merry, who took a few tentative steps.  
  
"See? Maybe you Big Folk can wade through it somehow, and the rest of us can just----"  
  
Merry's words were cut off as with a crack, the thin layer of ice beneath his feet suddenly gave way, sending him plummeting down into the soft snow beneath. He disappeared from sight.  
  
"Help!"  
  
Aragorn and Gandalf pushed through the drift of snow until they located the sputtering, squirming hobbit and pulled him to safety.  
  
"There's our answer," said Aragorn, brushing off the snow-covered Merry. "We will have to break a trail through this."  
  
Boromir had been peering thoughtfully up the mountain, then back down. "It should at least be somewhat easier making our way back down rather than fighting through this all the way to the top," he said. "Perhaps you and I can----"  
  
"Let me UP, Samwise Gamgee!"  
  
Aragorn turned calmly to Boromir. "Remember what you were saying last night, about how Frodo seems to be a frail one?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
The Ranger chuckled. "It's a new day, Boromir." He turned and visibly braced himself for battle before walking back to where Frodo was struggling to sit up and Sam was holding him down with, it seemed, just two fingers. Aragorn sat down next to Frodo, who lay glaring at Sam.  
  
"Aragorn, I cannot lay here another second. We've been here for two *days*, as far as I can remember, and we have to get *out* of here!" Frodo made another futile effort to sit up; this time Sam only needed one finger to push him back down.  
  
"I agree, Frodo, and we're working on it," Aragorn said. He turned to Sam. "Well done, Sam. Now why don't you bring Frodo all the food you can carry. It's time this hobbit started eating again." Sam got to his feet with a grin and walked off a few feet to where the packs were piled up.  
  
Frodo frowned up at Aragorn. "What do you mean, 'we're working on it'?"  
  
"It's the storm. We have to clear away a lot of snow from the trail before we can leave."  
  
"What storm?"  
  
Aragorn smiled at him. "You more or less slept right through it, I think. All right, if you're so eager to sit up, we might as well try. Easy does it."  
  
Before Frodo could ask what 'more or less' meant, Aragorn was folding back the blankets and raising him very slowly into a sitting position. It wasn't slow enough, as Frodo felt everything start to tilt and spin once again. He closed his eyes and leaned weakly against Aragorn's chest. "Oh."  
  
"Frodo---"  
  
"Just.... just give me a second," Frodo murmured. It was closer to a minute before he felt he could safely open his eyes and look up at the Ranger. "I think you're right, I definitely need to eat something."  
  
"That'll help," agreed Aragorn. He touched Frodo's brow and was relieved to find the fever nearly gone. "How's the headache?"  
  
"It's still there," Frodo sighed. "The pain isn't as bad, it's more like a throbbing. And this is a bit better." He touched his broken wrist. "Maybe I can..." He tried wiggling his fingers a little and gasped at the sharp pain the small movements caused.  
  
"Maybe you shouldn't try that again for a few days," said Aragorn. "I'll see if I can make you something to take for the pain that isn't strong enough to put you to sleep." Sam plopped down beside them, his arms laden with cheese and bread and dried meats. "That's fine, Sam. Make sure he--- "  
  
"I want to stand up."  
  
"Frodo---"  
  
"Just for a moment, Aragorn, please. I need to know I can do it."  
  
Aragorn sighed, knowing that if he were in Frodo's place he would be asking the same thing. "All right. I'm going to do this very slowly, and let me do all the work." He got to his knees, then pulled Frodo upright with almost infinite slowness, keeping a firm hold on him. Frodo had to keep his eyes closed as the dizziness and headache intensified, but it felt wonderful to be standing again, if just briefly.  
  
"That's enough for now." Aragorn eased him back down to a sitting position. Frodo was wearing neither jacket nor cloak, and the Ranger wrapped him back up in the blankets before he became chilled.  
  
"I'll need at least one hand if you expect me to eat!"  
  
Aragorn chuckled and helped Frodo wriggle his right arm free of the blankets, then motioned Gimli over. "Gimli, would you be so kind as to sit with Frodo for awhile while I prepare something for him? He still needs a bit of assistance."  
  
"Of course, of course!" Gimli sat down and Frodo relaxed against him, a bit worried that he couldn't stand up on his own yet. He had also just realized that he didn't have on the same pair of breeches he remembered wearing when all this started, but decided he'd rather not know all the details of the past two days. Not yet, anyway.  
  
"Master Baggins, you seem much better this morning."  
  
"Thank you, Gimli." Frodo found that if he didn't move too suddenly, the dizziness was manageable. He began to apply himself to the food with enthusiasm, Sam assisting him in his one-handed attempts. "I'm sorry everyone had to stay here so long."  
  
"This was certainly not your fault," said Gimli. "Besides, it has been extremely.. interesting."  
  
"Has it?"  
  
When Gimli seemed unwilling to elaborate, Frodo turned to Sam. "How's Bill?" he asked, his mouth full of cheese.  
  
"He's fine. He seems uncommonly fond of those bushes over there. I doubt there'll be any left when we leave!"  
  
"I'm sorry I yelled at you, Sam," said Frodo contritely.  
  
"Don't be, Mr. Frodo," said Sam with a grin. "I'd much rather have you awake and squawkin' than lyin' so pale and still!"  
  
After awhile Merry came over carrying a mug, Pippin trailing behind him.  
  
"Strider said you should drink this," said Merry. Frodo took the mug in his right hand and Merry helped him hold it. "He said it would help with the pain."  
  
"Why do you have snow in your hair?"  
  
"There's an awful lot of it out out there." Merry brushed more snow off and noticed the nearly empty plates and crumb-covered cloths scattered about. He grinned. "You're still dreadfully pale, Frodo, but it looks like you don't need to be forced to eat anymore!"  
  
"You're right," said Frodo. "I was starving, Mer." He smiled at Pippin, who had settled down close beside him.  
  
Merry watched Frodo take a few sips, then he gazed mournfully at Pippin, who had discovered an uneaten piece of bread. "I can't stand this much longer, Pip. Strider's right, this is contrary to nature." He turned to Frodo with a sigh. "Do you think he'll ever talk again?"  
  
"Of course he will, Mer, he has to. After all..." Frodo looked at Pippin thoughtfully, a strange notion taking shape in his head. Sam had filled him in on how gently they had all been treating Pippin, but Frodo wondered if it wasn't time to try something else. Pippin was a pure-blooded Took, and a bloodline like that could not be denied. Maybe pride could accomplish what nothing else had.  
  
"After all," Frodo continued casually, "He's to be the 31st Thain of the Shire someday." He winked at Merry and waited, practically holding his breath. Silence. He took a few more sips of the strange-tasting drink.  
  
A longer silence. Then....  
  
"Thirty-second," said a tiny, muffled voice.  
  
Merry gasped. Frodo could hardly keep from whooping with joy, but with an effort he kept his voice neutral. "Are you sure, Pip?" he asked. "I'm certain Bilbo said that Uncle Paladin is the 30th Thain."  
  
Pippin had not looked up, but he was starting to shift restlessly.  
  
Then another, barely audible response. "Bilbo was wrong."  
  
"Well now, I suppose you would know best," said Frodo. He handed the mug back to an ecstatic Merry and placed a finger under Pippin's chin. He lifted his cousin's distressed face up to meet his. "Thirty-second it is, then."  
  
Merry was watching Pippin carefully, Sam was staring at Frodo in rapt admiration, and Gimli was shaking with silent mirth.  
  
As Pippin studied Frodo's smiling face, comprehension dawned. "You... you knew that.."  
  
"Did I? Goodness, maybe I did. Sorry, Pip, but what else do you expect from a Baggins? We're all supposed to be quite mad, you know."  
  
Pippin started breathing fast, in shallow gulps, looking as if he was about to explode. "Oh, Frodo," he gasped. "You were hurt and I wanted to help you, I really really did, but I was so frightened and I couldn't move, I couldn't...." He suddenly ran out of breath and burst into tears.  
  
"It's all right, Pip, I know you wanted to help." Frodo pulled his young cousin close in utter relief and Pippin clung to him, shaking and sobbing, feeling as if the whole mountain had just lifted off his shoulders. Slowly he became aware of the awkward way Frodo was holding him. He shifted slightly and gently touched Frodo's bandaged wrist.  
  
"Does it hurt a lot?" he whispered through his tears.  
  
It sure does, Frodo thought.  
  
"Every time I hear your voice it hurts a little less."  
  
"Really?" Pippin's voice, muffled against Frodo's shirt, was still barely audible. "Should.. should I tell you a story?"  
  
"Would you? Wait a moment, Aragorn wanted me to drink this." Frodo took the mug back from Merry. Although he was trying to hide it, ever since he had stood up, his headache had been growing worse. He drank down the rest of the herbal brew and hoped it would be strong enough. He eased Pippin down onto the blanket, and Gimli settled him down beside him before leaving the hobbits alone, a big smile on his face. "Keep talking, Pip, so I don't fall asleep."  
  
"I'll tell you all about... about the Tooks. I think I can name all the Thains."  
  
"You do that, Pip, and it'll put him to sleep for sure," said Merry. As much as he wanted to grab Pippin and wrestle him into the nearest snow drift in relief and joy (and anger for scaring him so), he sensed he should leave him alone with Frodo for awhile. There still seemed something fragile about his cousin; something not quite "Pippin" yet. As Pippin began to whisper names and dates to Frodo, Merry slowly got up and backed away, stumbling into Boromir and Aragorn who stood nearby, listening to the recitation with delight. Aragorn put his arm around Merry, who leaned against him in relief.  
  
"Frodo's pretty smart," whispered Merry.  
  
"Yes he is," said Aragorn, also keeping his voice down. "It's a good beginning, Merry, but there are things to be dealt with yet. What's the matter, Boromir?"  
  
Boromir looked at Aragorn, then at Merry, deeply perplexed. "What in the world is a Thain?"  
  
** TBC **  
  
_______________________  
  
I truly hope folks aren't disappointed with the Pippin scene (in that he hasn't suddenly snapped back to his old self again). The Pippin we know and love is on his way back with a vengeance, believe me, but healing takes time... 


	14. Far From Home

What a relief!  I had feared that at least half of the readers of Chapter 13 would be disappointed that Pippin didn't have a "total and immediate" recovery.  I feel much better now.  Nothing is rushed in this story (including the reappearance of what MagicalRachel calls the "evil little birdies").

I know, I know, this chapter is way too short (it's more an interlude than a chapter), but everything in it sets up happenings in Chapter 15, which is a nice long one.

Ailsa Joy:   Thank you for your comments on "Reunion at Cormallen"!  I had *so* much fun writing it.

Ancalime:   Yes, there was a "lack of Legolas" in Chapter 13 (and in this one); sometimes a story has to focus down on the small moments between specific people.  I'll work everyone back into the tale, I promise!

Claudia:   I agree, Frodo is far from being able to walk down the mountain on his own.  What to do, what to do………

Elfling:   Wow, this is the first story you've read here?  I'm honored!

Erin-21:   And why *would* Boromir know what a Thain is?  As Faramir says to Frodo in TTT, "You are a new people and a new world to me."

Floria Tosca:   Thanks for being patient!  Regarding Boromir's guilt, welcome to Chapter 14.  Regarding his previous experience with trauma…….. stay tuned………

LilyBaggins and Little Mouse:   I'm not ready for this story to end, either!  "Avalanche" was originally a 3-4 chapter idea, but this tale has taken on a life of its own.

MagicalRachel:   You are so right, it's *always* nice to be told!

Robin Gurl:   Glad your Ice Storm is over!  I grew up near Philadelphia, and remember many a cold, icy winter.

Rose Cotton:   The "real" Pippin……… hmm……… I think you only have to wait for one more chapter.  And the birds…….. I'm working on it!

Serra Lynn:   I wish FOTR *had* been 6 hours long.  That was the shortest movie I've ever seen (lol).

Thank you so much, everyone.  Your encouragement and support mean so much to me.

PLEASE NOTE:   I am not a medical professional and do not claim to be.  This is a work of fiction.  No medical treatment or description of physical or emotional injury in this story should be taken as anything more than the author's own opinions and plot devices.

As the Fellowship begins its journey Pippin is 28 years old, a hobbit not yet "of age".  I have chosen to write him as such; a tweenager trying to hold his own in a group of adults but still on shaky emotional ground in a lot of ways.

DISCLAIMER:  Of course. The characters don't belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.

___________________________

AVALANCHE

Chapter 14 --- Far From Home

"He's to be Steward of his people, Boromir.  As you are."

Thinking over this strange concept kept Boromir's mind busy as he and Aragorn pushed slowly through the ice-encrusted drifts of snow, painstakingly rediscovering the path of the original trail as they did so.  Legolas had run lightly ahead and was no longer in sight.

"Steward?  That youngster?"

"Weren't we all youngsters once?" Aragorn asked, equally grateful for a distracting topic of conversation.  "If that scamp makes it back home, he'll be the farthest-traveled, best-educated Thain in Shire history.  As a matter of fact, *you* can probably teach him a lot.  We have quite a long road ahead of us."

"Hmmm."  Boromir thought about that.  Although he was talking again, in two days Pippin had not once gone anywhere near the edge of the small area where they were camped.  Boromir couldn't remember him even raising his head to look at it.  Years ago he had seen one young life ruined after a similar situation, and he was not about to see it happen again.  Perhaps there *was* something he could teach this youngster, but there would be precious little time to do so.  He and Aragorn stopped for a rest, and he noticed the wisps of cloud beginning to appear in the clear sky.

"There may be another storm approaching," Boromir said.  "Perhaps not until tomorrow, however."

"I agree."  Aragorn sighed wearily.  "But I hope we are well down the slopes by then."  He and Boromir had not been walking through the deep snow as much as wading through it.  Rediscovering the trail, however, was not the same as recreating it, and he feared that the hobbits would still need assistance.  "It will be difficult to bring the hobbits through this.  We will have to be particularly slow and careful with Frodo.  He is improving, but his headache will be aggravated by any abrupt movements.  The pony's gait might be………" He stopped, noticing that Boromir had pressed his lips together in a thin line, dark emotions slowly kindling in his eyes.  "What is it?"

"I am to blame, Aragorn," Boromir burst out angrily.  "The halflings should never have been hurt."

"Why do you say this?"

"Let us continue," said Boromir abruptly, motioning ahead of them.  Aragorn nodded, and he took the lead this time, striding ahead and thrusting the deep snow away from him as he did so.  Boromir followed closely behind him, widening the trail.

"I did not know what I could add to this Company," said Boromir after a brief silence.  "The Ringbearer seemed well defended, and each of the Free Peoples was represented well.  It was not until we started up this mountain that I felt I knew."

Aragorn said nothing, although he was listening closely.

"I grew up near the White Mountains, and spent a great deal of time there," Boromir continued.  "I believed there to be little about snow and storms and survival I did not know.  Once you have heard an avalanche, Aragorn, you never forget the sound, and when I heard that sound again………"  He grew angry once more.  "I should have pulled those halflings to safety without hesitation.  How could they know what was to come?  But I knew; I should not have hesitated more than a second."

"Boromir," said Aragorn softly, "A second was all we had.  By the time we heard that sound it was already too late, and we did the best we could.  Had you reached them, you would have been swept away as well."  He stopped and turned around to face Boromir.  "You blame yourself for something you could not prevent.  I blame myself that we are on this mountain at all.  Gandalf is uneasy that something may have sensed his use of Power…….." He shook his head.  "And believe me, when a wizard is uneasy, that is a grim thought indeed."  To Boromir's amazement, he continued.  "Legolas has expressed his unhappiness that he, who heard the rumbling first, did not more quickly warn the Company, although he had no more idea what that sound represented than did the hobbits.  All are to blame, Boromir, and all are blameless."  He smiled, remembering Gandalf's words to him.  "With each step, each day, each decision, we can only do what we can."

"Perhaps."  Boromir felt his self-anger draining away somewhat.  "Perhaps."

"You are a valued and valiant member of this Company," Aragorn said firmly.  "Do not doubt it."

It was becoming more difficult for Boromir to deny the respect he felt rising within him for the son of Arathorn.  He started to respond, then saw movement ahead of them.  "Legolas is returning."

Frodo lay quietly, his eyes closed, lulled by the comforting sound of Pippin's soft voice and the seemingly infinite genealogy.  The drink Strider had given him had eased the pain quite a bit, but he still felt weak and dizzy.

 "Frodo?"

"Hmmm?"

"What's under your shirt?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's not cloth, or……….."  During his recitation, Pippin had unconsciously wormed a finger between two of Frodo's shirt buttons and had discovered the mithril beneath.  "Whatever is this?"

Frodo opened his eyes to Pippin's curious, eager ones.  "That's, well, something Bilbo gave me, Pip.  Nobody knows about it."  He sighed.  "Can you keep a secret?"

Pippin sat up, excited to be told something no one else knew.  "Merry, Sam, and I kept a secret from *you* long enough, you know."

"That's right, you did."  Frodo smiled at him.  "Do you remember, in Bilbo's story, about the mithril coat the Dwarves gave him?"

Pippin looked at him, wide eyed.  "Is that it?"

"Shhh.  Yes.  We're still part of Bilbo's story, I think."

Pippin abruptly looked down and pulled restlessly at a frayed spot in the blanket.  "This is one of the scary parts.  I don't like it."

"I know.  This has been awfully scary for you, Pip, but we all have to be very strong."

"I'm not sure I know how to be this strong," Pippin said mournfully.  "We've come such a long way.  My parents don't know where I am."

"It's the same for Sam and Merry."  Frodo thought about it.  "And Boromir's father doesn't really know where *he* is, either, I guess."

"Boromir's on his way home."

"Yes, he is."

"I wish *we* could go home."

Frodo didn't say anything.  After a minute, he reached up and pulled his cousin back down next to him.  He stroked Pippin's hair and thought hard, hoping he would say the right things.

"Pip," he said softly, "When I was hurt by that wraith and I was getting sicker and sicker…….. what do you think I wanted more than anything?"

"What?"

"I wanted to go home, so very much.  But we had to keep going, it was the only way I could get better.  It was the only way to keep danger away from the Shire.  Pip, do you remember how beautiful the Shire is, the sparkling rivers and green fields, and trees and flowers everywhere?"

Pippin started to ache with homesickness so badly that tears were running down his face.  "Yes," he whispered.

Frodo was gazing at him intently.  "That's what we're trying to save.  That's why we're here, facing all these scary things and not stopping, no matter what happens."

"I…… I know," whispered Pippin.  "It's just that---"

"Tell me why you're here.  Why did you want to come with me so badly?"

"Because…….."  Of all the reasons leaping through Pippin's mind, one stood out clearly.  He sat up again and looked at Frodo steadily.  "Because you'd be out here alone, without any family."  He caught Frodo's hand and held it.  "We're your *family*, Frodo!  We had to help you!  And you were just going to up and leave and---"

"Oh," breathed Frodo.  "Oh Pip."  He squeezed Pippin's hand.  "You have no idea what it means to me that you're here, no idea………" A new and more intense wave of dizziness washed over him.  "We have to save the Shire, Pip, we're……… we're the only ones who can.  I think………"  Pippin felt the grip on his hand weaken.  "I……… I'm still a little tired………."

Pippin didn't say anything as Frodo's eyes closed and he slowly relaxed, and soon he knew his cousin had fallen back to sleep.  For the first time, Pippin began to wonder how badly Frodo had been hurt.  Should he still be sleeping this much?  He swiped the tears off his face and lay down between Frodo and the wall, pulling another blanket over them both.  He shifted uncomfortably on the rocky ground and thought about everything Frodo had said.  He wondered if he could ever be as brave as his cousin.  He wondered how long it would be before they started back down that terribly narrow trail.  He shivered and curled up into a ball, glad to still be as far from the rim of the ledge as he could get.

** TBC **


	15. Rekindled

Hi, folks. This week I posted Chapter 1 of my new tale, "Quarantined" (which will be updated somewhat erratically, I fear). If this type of story appeals to you, I hope you'll check it out and let me know what you think.  
  
  
  
Emma Malfoy: You are the 300th reviewer of "Avalanche"! I can hardly believe that this story has received so many reviews (I thought that only happened to *other* authors). I'm speechless. No, I'm beyond speechless.... I'm gratified and overwhelmed. Thank you, thank you, thank you, everyone.  
  
A Elbereth, Baylor, LilyBaggins, Pansy Chubb: Thank you for agreeing with me! Frodo *is* the elder cousin, after all, and has lived alone for 17 years. Think of all the advice and wisdom he has to share! (And Pansy, WHEN are you going to write another fic? "A Short Rest in Hollin" is such a sweet vignette.)  
  
Ailsa Joy: I really appreciate your comments for so many of my stories!  
  
Baylor: Of *course* I wouldn't just hint at Boromir's first experience with a traumatized person; here is that chapter at last, and I hope you enjoy it.  
  
Broadway Magic: I'm so honored that this was the first LOTR story you read at this site, and thankful that it didn't disappoint. As many fanfiction authors do, I really pour my heart and soul into each story.  
  
Budgielover: Foreshadowing? Me? (Shirebound tries and fails to look innocent.)  
  
katakanadian: I would stack up my dust bunnies against yours, any day. If I put a fraction of the energy I'm pouring into this story into doing housework... wow.....  
  
Lee: My goodness, thank you! Wow. (And as for getting down the mountain.... and the evil minions learning who has the Ring.... stay tuned.....)  
  
Lindriel: I wish I could update faster, too! Regretfully, my family already thinks I spend more time with hobbits than I do with "the 3- dimensional people", so I don't think I'd better increase my computer time!  
  
MagicalRachel: You make me blush, girl! (And you're right; soon the group *will* be wishing Pippin was quiet again! Have you been reading the draft of Chapter 16 in my computer?)  
  
Robin Gurl: Uh oh. If you're nervous that you're starting to like Boromir too much, by the end of this chapter I suspect you'll be madly in love with him. Sorry.  
  
Treehugger: Oh yes, Pippin will find his courage; perhaps from an unlikely source... perhaps in this very chapter....  
  
TrueFan: You risked your freedom to review Chapter 14? Wow, that's amazing. I hope you're still at large and able to enjoy Chapter 15 in safety!  
  
  
  
PLEASE NOTE: I am not a medical professional and do not claim to be. This is a work of fiction. No medical treatment or description of physical or emotional injury in this story should be taken as anything more than the author's own opinions and plot devices.  
  
As the Fellowship begins its journey Pippin is 28 years old, a hobbit not yet "of age". I have chosen to write him as such; a tweenager trying to hold his own in a group of adults but still on shaky emotional ground in a lot of ways.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Of course. The characters don't belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.  
  
___________________________  
  
AVALANCHE  
  
Chapter 15 --- Rekindled  
  
  
  
Frodo, bundled in cloak and blankets and secure in Aragorn's arms, stared in disbelief at the only view open to him --- the blocked, snow-covered, impassable "trail" leading up the mountain. Aragorn felt there was no better way to break the news to Frodo that they would not be continuing to the top of the pass, than to let him see with his own eyes what they would be facing.  
  
"But---"  
  
Aragorn turned slowly until he and Frodo were facing the opposite direction --- down. He didn't say a word, and waited for the explosion.  
  
Frodo just looked, the truth slowly dawning. Overnight, apparently, the storm he had 'more or less' slept through had closed the pass. Someone, Boromir and Aragorn by the looks of them, had cleared enough of the downward trail to at least see where it was, although Frodo couldn't imagine how the hobbits were going to keep from getting buried in the remaining drifts. Down, they were going back down. He lay his head against Aragorn's chest with a sigh.  
  
"That's an awfully long way to carry us," Frodo said quietly. "But how else will we manage?"  
  
Aragorn had been expecting a loud protest, perhaps a barrage of arguments, but not this. He wasn't sure if Frodo was simply yielding to the inevitable or if he wasn't feeling well enough to argue, but it was probably a little of both.  
  
"It's not as bad as it appears," the Ranger said. "Thanks to Legolas, before Boromir and I fell over in exhaustion, we learned that the snow diminishes abruptly not too far down --- there, just around that second curve. Once we reach that point, we should be able to travel with enough speed to be nearly at the bottom in one day." He chuckled. "A very *long* day, I suspect."  
  
"And then where do we go? I heard you say that you didn't trust the way that leads to the Gap of Rohan."  
  
"That, my friend, we will discuss at the bottom of this mountain. Gandalf and I know of one more path we can attempt."  
  
"When do you want us to start?"  
  
"Today," said Aragorn. "Soon. As quickly as we can prepare a meal and pack up everything. I wish you could get one more day of rest, but there may be another storm coming. We could be trapped here until Spring."  
  
"Put me down."  
  
Aragorn hesitated, then lowered Frodo to the ground. He knelt and kept a hand firmly on the hobbit's back to steady him. Frodo's head still ached, and he felt shaky and weak. He sighed in frustration.  
  
"Aragorn," asked Frodo, "Why am I still so dizzy?"  
  
The Ranger looked into the hobbit's enormous blue eyes. "Frodo," he said quietly, "You were thrown against that boulder with enough force to break a bone." He managed a small smile. "And we both know that hobbits don't break that easily! You struck your head quite hard, but you're recovering steadily. If we were still in Rivendell, I would not have let you leave your bed for many days, not until the headache was entirely gone."  
  
"I'll be fine," said Frodo. "We have to get out of here." He shivered a little in the chill air. "Since we're going down to where it's warmer, and since it's daylight, why don't we use all that wood we've been carrying with us and make a fire and a hot meal? Besides...." He fingered the Ranger's damp cloak. "It seems as if you and Boromir could use some drying out."  
  
"That," said Aragorn with a smile, "is an excellent idea." He carried Frodo back to where Merry and Pippin were talking quietly together. Everyone was delighted to learn that a fire and a hot meal would be forthcoming, and leaped to help Sam prepare things. Gimli and Legolas began to drag the bundles of wood into the center of the ledge and pile them together.  
  
Boromir pulled Aragorn aside and they stepped away from the group, out to the rim of the ledge. "How is he?" He motioned to Frodo, who was quietly watching all the activity.  
  
The Ranger kept his voice low. "He's still in pain, although he's trying to hide it, and he's having trouble keeping his balance." His gaze wandered down the slope, to the boulder at the edge of the precipice. "He needs further rest and quiet, but we have no choice but to press on, and quickly. We have stayed in one place far too long. I suspect the only way we can descend at speed without hurting him is to put him into a deep sleep." He sighed. "I know he will protest."  
  
Boromir surveyed the partially cleared trail. "It will be a long, hard march before we can put this mountain behind us. He will see the logic in it. If not..." The Man glanced back at Frodo. "There are ways to administer herbs without the patient knowing."  
  
Aragorn shook his head, also turning to look at Frodo. "His trust in us is all he has, Boromir, and I will not jeopardize it. I'll prepare what is needed and hope he can be persuaded to take it." Aragorn's eyes left Frodo and took in Pippin, still unwilling to venture too far from the rock wall. "Frodo may not be the only one who may need persuading."  
  
"I have an idea in that regard," said Boromir thoughtfully. "Apparently Pippin's pride is the key to his recovery. One more challenge to it may be just enough."  
  
  
  
Assured by Aragorn that he and Legolas would go hunting as soon as they reached level ground, Sam had wasted no time in turning heated water, much of the dried meat, and some broth and spices into a stew that everyone enjoyed thoroughly after so many days of cold meals.  
  
"Caradhras reminds me greatly of the White Mountains near my home," said Boromir casually, dipping a piece of bread into his stew. "This is not the first avalanche I have experienced."  
  
"It's certainly the only one *I* want to experience," said Frodo. He took the mug of hot stew that Sam held out for him. "Thank you, Sam."  
  
"You and Pippin were very fortunate, Frodo," continued Boromir. "A friend of mine was less so."  
  
"Was he killed?" whispered Pippin, his eyes wide.  
  
"Not exactly," Boromir said sadly, as he remembered. "A group of us were climbing high on a snow-covered peak. We were barely adults and of course believed we knew everything. We didn't listen to advice, or heed the warning of the mountain itself. When the avalanche hit, it was too late to seek shelter."  
  
"What happened?" asked Merry. He didn't think this was a very good story to be telling in front of Pippin, but Boromir was telling such a good tale that he was already getting caught up in it.  
  
"We were extremely fortunate, as you two were," Boromir motioned to Frodo and Pippin. "No one was killed, although there were injuries and we nearly perished of the cold. But my friend, Berthongil..." He sighed. "Berthongil was the youngest of us. He was one of the most reckless of our friends, but was well liked. He had a good heart and a bright future. When we located him he was clinging to a tree, dangling perilously over a cliff. It took all of us working together to rescue him. But something had happened; fear had overtaken him and would not let him go. He shook and moaned, and would not rise to his feet. He was too terrified to walk, or even to raise his head to look at us."  
  
The hobbits were mesmerized by the tale. Even Gimli and Legolas were listening closely.  
  
"He was uninjured. We urged him to face his fear, to see that he was safe, but he could not. His fear was threatening to swallow him like a ravenous beast, and he seemed powerless to fight back. I knew if he could get up and take a step, just one step forward, he would be free of the beast. If he could take but one step..."  
  
"And did he?" Merry was so entranced by the story, he couldn't wait to hear what had happened. Surely Berthongil had found his courage, and he was even now a stalwart, fearless warrior of Minas Tirith.  
  
Boromir shook his head. "He would not. He refused to even raise his head, or look out upon the world beyond where we were huddled together. The more we tried to help, to push or encourage or even shame him to move or speak, the more he withdrew. I had never seen such a thing, and didn't know the right things to do or say. I later learned that we tried too much, too fast. Finally we had to carry him down from the heights ourselves, and we were at last met by another climbing party that brought us to safety. That was..." Boromir bowed his head at the old, bitter memories. "That was many years ago."  
  
Sam was staring at the Man, horrified. "What happened to him, Boromir?"  
  
"He lives still, Sam, if living is what you can call it. The healers could do little for him. Few now ever see him. He rarely ventures outside of his dwelling, and has existed in fear all of his days." Boromir sighed, his eyes haunted. "It was as if his life stopped on that day, his spirit darkened and crushed. It is a sad thing to see such a wasted life... such bright promise lost."  
  
Pippin suddenly leaped to his feet, staring at Boromir, his face a mix of desperation, determination, and terror.  
  
"Pip," Merry whispered. "Are you all right?"  
  
Pippin opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He abruptly whirled about and took a step away from the group. And another step, toward the rim of the ledge. Merry stood up, as did Gandalf, but Boromir shook his head and motioned for them not to move. Everyone was watching Pippin closely, but he was aware only of the need to keep moving. He forced himself to take another halting step and wrapped his arms around himself, trying to stop trembling. He made it to just a few feet from the edge before he could go no farther. He stopped, shaking violently.  
  
"Now," said Boromir softly. At that, Gandalf slowly approached Pippin, Merry trailing just behind him. The wizard knelt in the snow behind the young hobbit and folded him in his arms. "I'm very proud of you," he said. "True courage is doing what must be done, even if we are very frightened."  
  
"Even you?" Pippin whispered.  
  
"Yes, Pippin. Even me. We see what has to be done, and find the courage to do it."  
  
What has to be done.... what has to be done... Everything Frodo had said to him came flooding back, and Pippin took a deep, shuddering breath and raised his head. As he forced his gaze up, and out over the ledge, something shifted inside him; his desperate yearning for home was replaced by an equally fierce devotion to it.  
  
"We have to help Frodo save the Shire, Gandalf." Pippin took another deep breath and stood up straighter, and Gandalf felt the trembling of the small body subside. At that moment, more than 500 years of unconquerable Took spirit flared up hotly and settled into a steady flame, taking its appointed place within the next Steward of the Shire.  
  
Gandalf turned the hobbit around so they were facing each other, and he saw that Pippin's eyes were clear and sparkling once more, the expressive face alight with spirited mischief and a new confidence.  
  
"Frodo's lucky to have you here to help him."  
  
Pippin grinned at the wizard. "I know."  
  
That was all Merry needed to hear. He threw himself at his cousin and nearly knocked him over. "Peregrin Took, don't you ever scare me like that again!"  
  
"Honestly, Mer, I don't know what you're talking about." Pippin eyed his cousin calmly, his breath frosty in the cold air. "Don't you think it's awfully chilly over here? Let's go get some of those blankets Frodo's been hoarding for days. Who does he think he is, anyway?"  
  
Gandalf walked away, chuckling to himself, wondering how he could still be surprised by the resilience of hobbits.  
  
"Sam?" Frodo whispered.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Where's Sting? I think I may have to defend myself."  
  
"I will defend you against this new peril, Master Baggins," said Gimli, chuckling. "Although I doubt one axe will be enough to stop him."  
  
To Legolas, it appeared that the young hobbit's spirit and natural vitality had returned in greater measure than before. "I will stand with you, Master Dwarf," he said with a smile. "If we are overcome, hopefully our companions will halt his advance."  
  
"If they can," murmured Frodo. He smiled up at Boromir, his eyes shining. "Thank you."  
  
"That really happened, didn't it?" asked Sam. "To your friend, I mean. How awful."  
  
"Yes, Sam," said Boromir. "It really happened." The haunted look in his eyes eased as he watched Pippin, who was embracing Merry and laughing. "But not this time."  
  
** TBC ** 


	16. Recoveries and Revelations

Best wishes to everyone for a healthy, happy, muse-inspired, hobbit-filled New Year!  
  
  
  
DansGirl4eva: Thank you so much! I am proud of "Avalanche" as well, and I'm thrilled that so many people are enjoying it.  
  
Emma Malfoy: My *complete works*?? I just love the way you phrase that!  
  
EvilPenguin: And a "Merry" Christmas to you!  
  
helga: So you're worried about Berthongil? Feel free to borrow him and write a little fic; maybe he redeems himself at the Siege of Gondor...?  
  
Katakanadian: Indeed, I have let sleeping dust bunnies lie and finished Chapter 16 on schedule. (Poor neglected bunnies; ah well, maybe they're busy hatching story plots for me and shouldn't be disturbed.)  
  
Rose Cotton: Thank you for cheering a line I was *so* proud of. I appreciate you mentioning it.  
  
Tatl Alaria: I suspect there are only a few chapters left before the end; but those crebain have been SO patient, I really must schedule an appearance for them very soon!  
  
  
  
PLEASE NOTE: I am not a medical professional and do not claim to be. This is a work of fiction. No medical treatment or description of physical or emotional injury in this story should be taken as anything more than the author's own opinions and plot devices.  
  
As the Fellowship begins its journey Pippin is 28 years old, a hobbit not yet "of age". I have chosen to write him as such; a tweenager trying to hold his own in a group of adults but still on shaky emotional ground in a lot of ways.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Of course. The characters don't belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.  
  
___________________________  
  
  
  
AVALANCHE  
  
Chapter 16 --- Recoveries and Revelations  
  
  
  
The gear was packed. Sam had just eased Frodo's hurt wrist into his jacket sleeve and was helping him on with the jacket when Aragorn came over and sat down next to Frodo, carrying a flask in one hand and a small cup in the other. Frodo looked warily from the flask to Aragorn's face.  
  
"Frodo---" Aragorn began.  
  
"No."  
  
Sam sighed and settled back. Whatever it was Strider wanted, he wasn't going to get it.  
  
"I wasn't trying to listen, Aragorn, but I heard some of what you told Boromir," said Frodo. "I don't care how fast we have to descend; I've slept enough."  
  
The Ranger smiled. "After all these years of living with Elves and their keen hearing, I still have not learned to speak quietly enough!" He grew more serious. "Frodo, I want you to listen to me. It's too soon for you to travel, but we have no choice. No matter who carries you, every step is going to cause you pain."  
  
Frodo sighed and tried to joke. "How would that sound in the tales, if the Ringbearer had to be carried, sleeping, across the whole of Middle-earth?" He saw Legolas smile and turn away, and realized that he was speaking too loudly. "I feel so helpless, Aragorn," he said more quietly. "I need to stay awake, to see what's happening, to be able to defend myself."  
  
"I hardly think you will need this mixture after today," said Aragorn, holding up the flask. "You will fare well enough once we reach level ground once more, but we must descend quickly and hope to avoid detection. There will be concealment once we reach the path we will tread to... where we are going next, but on the mountain there is none. This day will be hard on all of us, but for you..."  
  
Frodo shook his head slightly. "The headache's not too bad. If it gets worse, or I'm slowing everyone down, then.... we'll see. All right?"  
  
"All right." Aragorn chuckled a bit. "So that is all you hobbits care about, is it? Hearing heroic tales sung about you? I should have known!" Glad to see a real smile light up Frodo's face, he draped the sling around Frodo's wrist and fastened his cloak about him. He pulled Frodo into his arms and rose to his feet, looking around. "We're ready to start."  
  
Before Aragorn could say a word about who might carry whom, he noticed that Pippin had virtually attached himself to Boromir. Aragorn nodded to Boromir with a smile, and Boromir knelt down. In an instant, Pippin had wrapped his arms around Boromir's neck and his legs around the Man's waist. As Boromir stood up he heard a whisper in his ear. "Thank you, Boromir. Thank you for.. for.."  
  
"You are most welcome, my friend," answered Boromir quietly. "We must all look out for each other." He patted the tiny hands clasped in front of him. "I will need my hands to clear more snow, so you must hold on tight."  
  
Legolas walked lightly to the top of the nearest snow drift, and bent to take Frodo from Aragorn. Holding Frodo gently but securely in his arms, the Elf walked on top of the snow in his usual fluid fashion. Avoiding the ups and downs of the drifts that still obscured the trail would give Frodo the smoothest possible ride.  
  
Aragorn, carrying Sam, went first along the trail, followed by Boromir with Pippin, then Gandalf carrying Merry on his back. Hoping that the trail would be clear enough for them, Gimli followed, leading Bill. Without the bundles of wood and much of the food that had been strapped to him, the patient pony was now laden with the packs of Aragorn, Boromir, Frodo, and Gandalf.  
  
The whole enterprise went more smoothly than any had anticipated, reaching the end of the deep drifts in less than half an hour. The three hobbits were set back down, and everyone except for Frodo shouldered their packs once again.  
  
Sam stroked Bill's nose and leaned against the pony briefly. "Thank you Bill," he said softly. "That was a fair load to carry, wasn't it?" He looked up. "How are you doing, Mr. Frodo?"  
  
Frodo, still in Legolas's arms, had quickly begun to realize that Aragorn had been correct; in the half hour since starting out, his headache had been growing, it seemed, with every step Legolas took. He could bear it; he had to.  
  
"Fine, Sam," Frodo said, trying to smile. "Don't worry about me."  
  
The Company set out on their long descent of Caradhras. Frodo closed his eyes and tried to ignore the throbbing and dizziness, but only 15 minutes after their short break, they were both increasing in intensity. He was unaware how tightly he was gripping Legolas's tunic and was only vaguely aware when the Elf stopped walking. Something was being discussed, and he felt a hand on his cheek.  
  
"Frodo." Aragorn's soft voice penetrated the haze and Frodo opened his eyes.  
  
"There is no need for this; you have endured enough." Aragorn pressed the small cup to Frodo's lips. Frodo tried to turn away, but Aragorn spoke quietly, urging him to drink. Frodo swallowed a bit of the liquid, recognizing the same strange drink Legolas had given him that first night after he was hurt. But this was stronger --- much stronger, and more bitter.  
  
"More," said Aragorn. "Drink it all, little one."  
  
Frodo finally relented and finished the cupful; he was slowing them down, and he knew it. More quickly than the first time, he felt that odd floating sensation, and his thoughts slowed and swirled. He tried to stay awake, but barely had time to notice that the pain was fading before he lost consciousness.  
  
Aragorn watched as Frodo tried to fight the effects of the powerful draught, but in less than a minute Frodo's eyes fluttered closed. His small hand, still gripping Legolas's tunic, relaxed and fell to his side as he went limp in Legolas's arms. The Elf looked up in amazement.  
  
"I knew not that any herb could work this quickly."  
  
Aragorn was checking Frodo's pulse. "The herb masters of Rivendell have had thousands of years to cultivate and learn of the healing plants. They were generous with their knowledge --- and their supplies."  
  
"So stubborn," Legolas sighed.  
  
"A tenacious spirit makes for a troublesome patient, to be sure," Aragorn said with a chuckle, "but a formidable Ringbearer."  
  
Gandalf came up to them, eyeing Frodo with concern. "I will take him for awhile, Legolas." He reached out and gathered the hobbit into his arms, then scanned the mountain with a keen eye. "I believe this was wise, Aragorn. We must make haste. How long will he sleep?"  
  
The Ranger smiled ruefully. He always used the word 'sleep' when the other hobbits were close enough to hear him, and it was usually an accurate word, but he knew that this time Frodo was truly unconscious and would feel nothing for quite some time. "Many hours, but I cannot say exactly how long. I treat an injured hobbit as I would a child of similar size, but each person reacts differently. And this..." He kneeled to put the cup and flask away in his pack. "This is as strong a draught as I dare give him; stronger than he expected, I daresay." He picked up the wizard's staff and stood up, smiling. "Shall I give this to Pippin to hold for you?"  
  
Gandalf laughed out loud. "Perhaps we risk enough on this journey without finding out what that imp might make of such an opportunity!"  
  
  
  
"...know I'm right, Boromir..... not your fault that we've had a longer..... I'm sure Mardil was very......" Frodo slowly awoke to the sound of Pippin's voice, feeling warmer than he had in days. He felt.... better. He opened his eyes and looked around. He was lying, wrapped in blankets, on what appeared to be a somewhat level, grassy area. The Company appeared to be well down the mountain, but not fully to the bottom, as yet. Small patches of snow dotted the ground, as well as soggy depressions where the snow was melting into a muddy slush.  
  
Pippin and Boromir were sitting nearby, Pippin talking at a great rate and Boromir listening to him with an exasperated look on his face. Much of the Company sat nearby, talking amongst themselves or listening to Pippin. Legolas and Aragorn were standing a little apart, watching the evening stars appear and talking in low voices.  
  
"....so if you think about all the Thains that have---" Pippin stopped talking and gasped with joy. "Frodo!" Seeing that his cousin was awake, Pippin leaped up and would have thrown himself on top of Frodo had Boromir not grabbed him and pulled him back down. "You're awake! Are you hungry? How do you feel? Let me *go*, Boromir!"  
  
Frodo laughed and slowly sat up, marveling that he was able to do so on his own.  
  
"It's all right, Boromir, you can let him go," Frodo said. The Man released his hold on the young hobbit, who fairly flew to Frodo's side and plopped down next to him.  
  
"Who's Mardil?" Frodo asked.  
  
"Oh no," Merry groaned. "Don't start him up again."  
  
"He was the first Steward of Gondor," Pippin said, ignoring his cousin's impudence. "Apparently, Frodo, the Shire has had stewards longer than Gondor." He grinned triumphantly at Boromir. "Isn't that right?"  
  
Boromir sighed. "Apparently. Frodo, your cousin has spent the last hour--- "  
  
"Longer," moaned Merry.  
  
"---or longer, comparing Gondorian years to Shire Reckoning years, and figuring out that he is deserving of much more respect, having descended from a longer line of Stewards than have I. It's been quite.... educational."  
  
"It was more like two or three hours," muttered Sam.  
  
"Remember how nice and quiet Pip was?" Merry plucked a blade of dried grass and chewed on it. "Seems like only yesterday."  
  
Frodo looked into Pippin's lively, buoyant face and couldn't help but smile. He could only think of one thing, aside from hitting him with a mallet, that could keep Pippin quiet for a few minutes.  
  
"Pip, could you get me something to eat? Or didn't you leave me anything, you rascal?" Pippin immediately leaped up again and scurried over to the piled-up packs, where he began tearing through them.  
  
"So much energy," chuckled Gandalf. "You're right, Merry, it *was* nice and quiet there for awhile, wasn't it?"  
  
"Hmmph," muttered Pippin, returning to Frodo's side with his arms full of bags and packets. "They've been this grouchy for hours, Frodo. You were smart to stay asleep."  
  
"So it *was* hours," said Sam, pulling a few packs together so Frodo could sit against them. "I knew it."  
  
As Frodo began to eat, with Pippin alternately talking, nibbling, and talking, Legolas and Aragorn rejoined the group.  
  
"How do you feel, Frodo?" asked Aragorn.  
  
Frodo was tempted to scold the Ranger for giving him such a strong sleep- drink, but he felt so much better he decided not to. "You did the right thing," he admitted. "I feel a lot better. I still have a headache, but it's not nearly as bad as it was." He scratched a bit at the cloths wrapped around his left wrist. "This still hurts, but I suppose it will be mending for awhile."  
  
"For awhile," agreed Aragorn with a smile. "But hobbits mend so fast, I wouldn't be surprised if 'awhile' comes sooner rather than later." He glanced at Legolas, then his gaze took in the rest of the group. "Legolas and I will go hunting early in the morning. There are a lot of animal tracks about." He looked sternly at Pippin. "That is, if every beast from here to Rohan hasn't been been driven off by now." Pippin blushed and hung his head, and in so doing spied a piece of uneaten cheese near Frodo's hand.  
  
Aragorn continued, "I would prefer that we not be separated, but our supplies are running low."  
  
"Has everything been quiet?" asked Frodo.  
  
"It has been a long, hard day," answered Gimli, "but it would be inaccurate to say it has been 'quiet'." He, too, looked pointedly at Pippin. "Perhaps a better word is 'uneventful'." Frodo noticed that the Dwarf was also trying to look stern, but his twinkling eyes betrayed him.  
  
"I'm sure I'll be fine tomorrow," Frodo said to Aragorn. "I won't have to be carried, I don't think."  
  
"Why don't you use a walking stick?" asked Pippin. "Maybe Gandalf would loan you his staff, Frodo. After all, you're the only one who didn't get a turn."  
  
"A turn at what, Pip?"  
  
Sam and Merry both tried to motion Pippin to stop talking, but he didn't notice.  
  
"A turn holding his staff," continued Pippin. "We all got to hold it except for you, so maybe tomorrow you can---"  
  
"Are you telling me that really happened?" Frodo's thoughts flew back to his odd, vivid dream. "You were holding Gandalf's staff, and there was all this light, and I... and it wasn't...." Frodo stared at Pippin, who was nodding vigorously, then at everyone else, a look of horror on his face. He tried desperately to remember everything. "That wasn't a dream?"  
  
"No," said Pippin. "Why?" He suddenly frowned. "You look pale, Frodo. Do you need more to eat? Here, look, you didn't finish all your cheese. Let me help you with---"  
  
Aragorn put his hand on Pippin's shoulder. "That's all right, Pippin, I think Frodo can manage." He sighed. "You've helped enough."  
  
** TBC ** 


	17. Out of the Blue

For those following "Quarantined", Chapter 3 has now been posted.

I'm so pleased that everyone enjoyed discovering that the Shire has had stewards longer than Gondor!  It was fun figuring that out, and I just love adding something "new" in my stories that foks may not have thought about before.

A Elbereth:   When my mom read Chapter 16, her comment was, "Where can I get that stuff Aragorn gave Frodo?  I wish I could fall asleep that fast!"  Ah, don't we all.  Where are all those Elvish herbs, anyway?  (BTW, if you "adore a groggy Frodo" you're in for a lovely time with "Quarantined"!)

DansGirl4eva:   You've convinced me!  I'll quit my job, stop sleeping, chain myself to the keyboard, forget about seeing TTT for the third time, and just write fanfics 29 hours a day, 9 days a week.  Wow, my future is all set, no more worries.  Everything's……… so clear now………  (In other words, I'll do the best I can!)

Empress Carcilwen Greenleaf:   Wow, thanks!  I was very proud of Legolas's "healing" experience; I tried to imagine it very logically, and I must have rewritten it a dozen times.  If it can serve a story of yours, you are certainly welcome to 'borrow' it (and I would love to read it).

Leah Beth:   Sixteen chapters all at once?  My humblest thanks, and admiration for such a feat!  I'm so very glad you're enjoying it.

Lilybaggins:   I knew you'd relish that scene where Frodo is dosed into unconsciousness.  Somehow……… I just knew………

Little Mouse:   Could there be a better compliment than that?  I think not!

Nilmandra:   It's my belief that Elrond chose Legolas as one of Frodo's companions for exactly those reasons; his youth, resilience, love for Middle-earth (not a weariness of it), and capacity for growth.  What better teachers than the ever-unpredictable hobbits?

Prince Tyler Briefs:   If Boromir-and-the-hobbits are your favorites, I certainly hope you've discovered Baylor's "The Care and Feeding of Hobbits" --- you'll think you've died and gone to heaven.

Treehugger:   Yes, Frodo *was* speaking too loudly, wasn't he?  Loud enough for birds to hear, maybe………

zorra:   I appreciate all the effort you went through to read my story!  I hope accessing Chapter 17 goes more smoothly for you………

PLEASE NOTE:   I am not a medical professional and do not claim to be.  This is a work of fiction.  No medical treatment or description of physical or emotional injury in this story should be taken as anything more than the author's own opinions and plot devices.

As the Fellowship begins its journey Pippin is 28 years old, a hobbit not yet "of age".  I have chosen to write him as such; a tweenager trying to hold his own in a group of adults but still on shaky emotional ground in a lot of ways.

DISCLAIMER:  Of course. The characters don't belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.

___________________________

AVALANCHE

Chapter 17 --- Out of the Blue

When everyone awoke, early the next morning, Aragorn and Legolas had already been gone for several hours on their hunting expedition; the Company would not move on until they returned.

Frodo wanted to find out if riding Bill would be easier on him than walking (or being carried), and Sam led the pony, with Frodo astride him, around in a slow, easy circle.

"See there, sir?  If you hold on with one hand and the gear is packed all around, you should be able to stay on quite nicely, even with a bit of dizziness still.  You'd enjoy Mr. Frodo's company, Bill, wouldn't you?"

Boromir smiled at the sound of the hobbits' laughter, something he had greatly missed of late.  He turned to share a word with Gandalf and saw the wizard gazing into the sky, frowning and clutching his staff.

"What is it?"

Gandalf pointed northeast.  A small flock of birds, perhaps half a dozen in number, was flying in their direction.

"We have company."

"Friend or foe?" asked Boromir warily, stooping to retrieve his shield.  The birds grew closer.

"Crebain," muttered the wizard, unsheathing his sword.  "Very large ones.  They waited, Boromir, until our archers were gone."

"Say now, Bill, settle down.  Settle down, I say!"  Sam couldn't imagine what had gotten into the normally docile pony, now whickering nervously and skittering about.

Suddenly Gimli let out a yell as two of the birds separated from the group and flew straight at the skittish pony, while the other four continued their descent directly to where Boromir, Gandalf, and Gimli were standing.

"Frodo, get down from there!" Gandalf bellowed.  "Get down!"

The terrified pony reared up to defend himself from the enormous birds suddenly flapping and screeching in front of him, and Frodo found himself flung violently into the air, landing on his back on the spongy ground and just missing a large, shallow puddle.  The small explosion of lights and pain that shot through his head from the impact left him dazed and hardly able to move, and his wrist had been slammed painfully against his chest, but he knew that something far more dire had happened.  The Ring was no longer around his neck.

Boromir and Gandalf brandished their swords in front of them as they tried to run to the hobbits' aid, but the birds flew wildly about them, hindering their advance.  With a roar, Gimli swung his axe straight up and hit one of the crebain; with an explosion of feathers and a hoarse croak, the enormous bird dropped to the ground.  With his shield as protection from the beaks and claws, Boromir felled one bird that blundered too close to his long, gleaming sword.  Swinging his staff and sword about him, Gandalf dispatched another.  The remaining bird started to fly off in a panic.

"There must be none left to report back to Saruman," Gandalf muttered to Boromir.  The man took careful aim, and before the bird could escape he hurled his sword straight and true, bringing it down.

To Pippin, it appeared that everything was happening in slow motion.  There was a blur of large, black shapes, then Bill rearing back in terror.  He saw Frodo fall in one direction, while the chain about his neck flew off in another.  The chain, with the heavy golden Ring attached, landed just a few feet away from where he stood, falling with a plunk into a large, shallow depression of icy water before sinking into the mud.  Bill was still bucking and prancing with agitation, cutting off his view of Merry.  There was shouting and a roar from Gimli, and Pippin drew his sword with a yell.  Sam was running to Frodo's side, then suddenly whirling about and drawing his own sword against a black shape that drove him to the ground.

Pippin looked up and saw that one of the huge birds was nearly on top of him, screeching in triumph; it wanted………… not him, it didn't care about him.  It saw………. it was heading right for………

Pippin dropped his sword and threw himself headlong into the puddle, landing with a splash.  He gasped for breath as the frozen water seeped through his clothing.  No time, where is it…………. He groped beneath him until his fingers felt the chain.   Closing his fist tightly upon it, he waited for the agony about to strike --- the tearing, stabbing, rending of beaks and claws and evil intent.

Pippin shuddered as something heavy landed on top of him, driving him further into the water.  It was so cold, he couldn't breathe………  Suddenly the weight on him disappeared, and someone was lifting him up, pulling him free.

"Pippin, are you hurt?"

Pippin shook his head at Boromir and looked about wildly.  What had happened?  "Not hurt, just c. . cold and wet," he said, dripping and shivering.  

Sam had thrown himself on top of Frodo, shielding him with his body.  A bird lay dead at his feet, Sam's sword dripping with blood.

A few feet away lay a second bird, the one that had fallen on him, Merry's sword embedded in its breast.

"Merry threw his sword at it," Boromir said, shaking his head.  He looked at Merry with a grin.  "Excellent aim, my friend!"

"Thanks," said Merry, still a bit shaken.  "I saw what you did, and thought it was the only chance to keep that thing from tearing Pippin to bits; I was afraid I might skewer him."  He and Sam helped Frodo to his feet.  "Are you all right, Pip?  This is hardly the time for a bath!"

Gimli gave one more satisfying thwack with his axe to one of the dead birds, just for good measure, and suddenly noticed that Frodo seemed a bit dazed.  Sam and Merry were supporting him between them, but he didn't seem to be aware of their presence.

"Master Baggins, are you injured?"

Frodo looked up, but not at him; Gimli was uncertain whether the hobbit even knew he was there.  Frodo was staring straight ahead of him, to where Pippin stood a few feet away, drenched in icy, muddy water, shivering with cold, one hand clenched tightly against his chest.

"Pip," whispered Frodo.

Pippin stumbled forward.  Frodo held out his hand, and Pippin's fingers slowly loosened their grip on whatever it was he held so tightly.

Merry and Sam both gasped as Pippin dropped the Ring into Frodo's hand, and Boromir's mouth dropped open in amazement.  Even Gandalf seemed at a loss for words.

Frodo's fingers closed about the Ring.  Emerging from the almost trance-like state he had been in, he looked about him in confusion.

"Mr. Frodo, are you all right?" Sam asked.

Frodo nodded, even as his legs gave out from under him and he slumped to the ground.  With a cry, Sam fell to his knees and threw his arms around his friend.

"What is it?"  he asked.

"Just……….. a bit of a headache," Frodo murmured.

Legolas and Aragorn returned a scant half hour later.  As they approached the camp, they dropped the deer and rabbits they had caught, and gazed about in disbelief.  The carcasses of the crebain lay in a pile.  Gimli had gathered wood and lit a fire, and Pippin sat huddled in front of it wrapped in blankets.  His damp clothes lay spread out on the grass nearby.  Frodo was watching anxiously as Merry wrapped strips of cloth around the scratches on Sam's hand and arm.  Boromir and Gandalf stood some distance away, pointing to the peak and talking quietly.

Pippin saw their two companions running toward them, and he pointed excitedly at the crebain.

"Strider," he called, "Are those good to eat?"

After the astonished hunters had been filled in on what had happened, and there was no further sign of crebain or any other danger, the fire was built higher so the meat could be roasted and Pippin could thoroughly warm himself.  As the story was told and retold from everyone's viewpoint, Pippin found himself the recipient of so many pats on the back and admiring, light thwacks to the shoulder that he began to fear injury.  But no matter; for the first time since leaving Rivendell, he felt that he had somehow become a true member of the Fellowship --- and not just someone who needed looking after.

Sometime later, Gandalf looked about for Frodo; he had wandered away from the group and was leaning against a nearby tree, gazing up at the snow-covered peak towering above them.  The wizard walked over to join him.

"How's the headache?"

"It's better.  Luckily I landed on soft grass and not hard rock!"  Frodo looked up at the wizard.  "Such a clever attack, Gandalf.  Most of the birds acted as a distraction while the others came straight at Bill.  At me.  They knew I carried the Ring; somehow they knew.  It's as if they were waiting for it to show itself.  If Pippin hadn't thrown himself on top of it……….."

"If he hadn't, indeed…………" Gandalf mused.  "I suspect the birds' only plan was to keep us away from you long enough for one of them to seize the Ring once it was revealed.  It might even now be in the hands of Saruman, if not for Pippin.  His choice to safeguard the Ring over himself says much for our young companion."

"I know."  Frodo smiled.  "Or perhaps it was all an elaborate scheme to finally get all the blankets!"

"Indeed, there is no limit to that scamp's inventiveness," Gandalf chuckled.  "If there is only one more icy puddle between here and Mordor, I expect he will find it."

Mordor.  Frodo's smile abruptly faded.  "An avalanche does not dislodge the Ring from my neck, but a simple fall from a pony does so."  He looked grim.  "To lie buried in snow would not have served its end, but revealing itself to spies of the Enemy would.  It abandoned me when it chose to."

Gandalf nodded at the hobbit's perception.  "Yes, I believe that may be true."

"We will be hunted every step of the way," Frodo murmured, "and the Ring seeks to return to its Master.  It will never stop.  Oh Gandalf, there's so far still to go.  How can we possibly achieve this?"

Gandalf squatted next to Frodo and motioned to their seven companions.

"Observe what is possible, Frodo Baggins.  A Dwarf and an Elf become friends.  The future stewards of the Shire and Gondor meet and form an alliance.  The Heir of Isildur emerges from exile."  He smiled.  "A gentle gardener defends his master with body and sword; and hobbits from the Shire undertake a task which even the Wise dare not attempt."  He turned to look at Frodo.  "Who is to say what can or cannot be achieved?"

"You forgot the wizard," said Frodo, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Oh?  What about him?"

"A mighty wizard toils to cut a walking stick for an injured halfling because he won't permit anyone else to touch his own staff again, ever."

Gandalf chuckled.  "You are a most impertinent hobbit."

Frodo grinned at him.  "And I'm sure you'll make it a nice, smooth stick.  I'd hate to get a splinter.  I doubt Aragorn has much left in the way of bandages!"

** TBC **


	18. The Flame Imperishable

For those following "Quarantined", Chapter 4 has now been posted.  
  
  
  
I'm so relieved that everyone liked Chapter 17! I absolutely AGONIZED over it. One vicious attack seems to be all I have in me, so I'm skipping the encounters with the Wargs and the Watcher and moving the Fellowship towards (and into) Moria. (If it's an attack you're after, I suspect Budgielover's "Descending Caradhras" is going to take care of that nicely!)  
  
"Avalanche" will come to an end in Lórien, with the next chapter (Chapter 19). What a journey this has been! Over 400 reviews. I still can't believe it.  
  
  
  
EvilPenguin: I was laughing so hard at the last line of your review, my mom came into the room and asked if I was okay. (We authors are a strange lot, you know; the least thing will set us off!)  
  
Gwaythiel: I do put a lot of effort and love into my chapters; thank you so much for your comments.  
  
  
  
PLEASE NOTE: I am not a medical professional and do not claim to be. This is a work of fiction. No medical treatment or description of physical or emotional injury in this story should be taken as anything more than the author's own opinions and plot devices.  
  
As the Fellowship begins its journey Pippin is 28 years old, a hobbit not yet "of age". I have chosen to write him as such; a tweenager trying to hold his own in a group of adults but still on shaky emotional ground in a lot of ways.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Of course. The characters don't belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.  
  
___________________________  
  
AVALANCHE  
  
Chapter 18 --- The Flame Imperishable  
  
  
  
"I don't like the sound of it," Pippin said.  
  
"It doesn't rhyme with much, and that's a fact," mused Sam. "Euphoria, maybe, but not much else I can think of. Be hard to work it into a song."  
  
The Company was walking along a bleak, rock-strewn path toward the high cliffs that Gandalf had called the doors of Moria. Frodo had decided that riding Bill was perhaps not such a good idea after all, and for awhile he was able to keep to a fair enough pace using his new walking stick. Gimli and Legolas were walking just behind the hobbits, and Aragorn, Boromir, and Gandalf were further ahead.  
  
"Ah, but the true name is Khazad-Dûm," said Gimli, trying to be helpful. "Many are the tales and songs of that ancient realm."  
  
"Yes," said Sam. "That's better. Bloom, room.."  
  
"Fume, gloom.." added Merry.  
  
"Cracks of Doom," said Frodo with a grin.  
  
"I'm sorry I mentioned it," grumbled Gimli.  
  
Legolas clapped Gimli on the shoulder. "Perhaps now we know why your people keep their secrets, and their language, to themselves, Gimli."  
  
"Aye," Gimli nodded. "I knew there was deep wisdom at the heart of it."  
  
By mid-afternoon, even after several rest stops, Frodo had begun to wish he was riding, after all. He was about to ask if the Company could take another brief halt when Pippin came to walk at his side.  
  
"Frodo?" asked Pippin quietly.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"How did it get out?" Pippin was looking down, fumbling for words. "The Ring, I mean. It was tucked under your.." He lowered his voice, remembering that the mithril coat was a secret. ".. coat and all, and shirt, and vest, and jacket, and cloak; awfully secure, I would think. Is it.. alive?"  
  
Frodo had been thinking about this very thing.  
  
"It's not exactly alive," he said thoughtfully. "But it's connected to the Dark Lord somehow. I suppose it's pulled toward anything or anyone that might help it get back to where it came from." He sighed. "It's a bit beyond me, Pip. You'd have to ask Gandalf, I suppose."  
  
Pippin grinned. "Every time I get near Gandalf, he thinks I'm after his staff again."  
  
"Are you?"  
  
"Well, not *every* time."  
  
Frodo took a few more steps, impatient with his growing weariness after only a few hours of walking. A bit lightheaded, he stumbled, and the walking stick slipped out of his grasp. He clutched at Pippin's cloak. "Would you ask if we can stop for a bit?" he whispered.  
  
"Strider!" Pippin called instantly. "Frodo needs a rest."  
  
"I said 'ask', Pip," Frodo sighed. He felt Legolas's arm around him, steering him over to one of the flat boulders that lined their path. The Elf pushed Frodo down gently and sat beside him.  
  
"I'm all right," said Frodo, leaning gratefully against the Elf. "I just need a moment.."  
  
Gandalf looked about, gauging the distance yet to be traveled. "Aragorn," he said quietly. "We must reach the cliffs before nightfall."  
  
"I know." Aragorn walked quickly to where Frodo was sitting. "That's enough walking for today, Frodo. Legolas, would you take his pack?" He lifted the hobbit into his arms.  
  
"No," Frodo murmured. "Aragorn, no."  
  
"I am sorry, Frodo, but we cannot stop yet." Aragorn held Frodo securely and resumed walking. "Are you in pain?"  
  
"Just a little tired," said Frodo. "A bit dizzy, still."  
  
Aragorn could feel the small body trembling with weariness. "You have done very well, better than I had hoped; but you must not overdo it. You have earned a rest."  
  
"Just a short rest, then," Frodo sighed. "And no more of that.. sleep drink.." He closed his eyes, and Aragorn felt him sag a bit in his arms.  
  
"I doubt you will need it this time, little one," the Man said softly.  
  
  
  
"Mellon!"  
  
Frodo opened his eyes, startled to find himself in Boromir's arms. Daylight had faded into a darkening twilight. The Company was at the base of a high, sheer cliff, now splitting in two before his eyes. Boromir chuckled and lowered him to the ground.  
  
"Are you feeling better, Frodo?"  
  
"Yes," said Frodo, trying to orient himself. "Moria," he murmured.  
  
"Aye," said Gimli. "You have seen a city of the Elves, young hobbits." His eyes gleamed with pride. "But the majesty of Khazad-Dûm awaits. What the Dwarves have achieved here, you will not soon forget."  
  
  
  
Legolas tried to find a comfortable position on the uneven stones. It had been less than a day, and already the cold stillness of Moria seemed to cling oppressively to him. He longed to be free of this place, once again able to breathe clean air and bathe in gentle starlight. At least here, in this passage, a distant sliver of pale light filtered down to where they sat.  
  
Only Gimli and Gandalf seemed unaffected by the unfathomable weight of stone and mountain atop them, but Legolas suspected that Gimli was feeling a greater weight than anyone, save Frodo. With the death of so many, a great number surely of Gimli's own family, must have come a shattered belief in the invincibility of his people. Legolas's own concern seemed to him trivial compared to what was happening around them.  
  
The Elf's sigh brought Gandalf out of his thoughts. They were seated together, watching over their companions settling down for a few hours' sleep.  
  
"Speak, my friend," the wizard said quietly. "What troubles you?"  
  
Legolas turned to him. "It is such a small thing, Mithrandir, but I find that I am unable to forget it." He hesitated, then went on. "Frodo told me of a dream he had, in which he saw me... 'lit up'. I would like to understand what he truly saw."  
  
"You suspect it was more than a dream."  
  
"Yes. It occurred when he was injured and in such distress. His life force was weak; I could feel it. I do not know precisely what happened between us then, but it was a powerful experience for us both. Afterwards, I learned..." Legolas sighed again. "Frodo saw Glorfindel ablaze with light. I understand that at that moment Frodo was near death, perhaps as near as a mortal can come to it and yet recover."  
  
"And you are wondering if, at both times, his closeness to mortal death enabled Frodo to see something unusual in both of you?"  
  
"There is much about Frodo that is extraordinary, and he may indeed have seen Glorfindel as he truly is. But Glorfindel is of the Eldar, while I..." Legolas shook his head. "Perhaps a dream is all Frodo experienced, after all. Something comforting in a difficult moment."  
  
The wizard was silent for some time. He pulled his cloak tighter about himself.  
  
"What do you know, Legolas, of the Flame Imperishable?"  
  
"Only that which all are taught. It is the essence of all life, extending from Ilúvatar to the Ainur, and sent forth to bring Eä into being." The Elf frowned. "When you brought forth Fire from your staff, I wondered....."  
  
"Ah," the wizard murmured. "Forgive me, my friend, but of that which I serve, I cannot speak freely." He turned his penetrating gaze on the Elf. "I can tell you, however, that the animating spark resides within us all. Glorfindel has been tempered by Ages of learning and hard-won wisdom; also, he is of Valinor, and is ever a part of that Blessed Realm. Of him, more than most, the Light is only thinly concealed, and can be seen by those who can perceive such things."  
  
"Such as Frodo," Legolas whispered.  
  
"I have long known it," said the wizard. "Frodo has been gifted with dreams of great clarity, and a perception given to few mortals. But any can perceive this Light, given enough time and effort..." His eyes fell on Sam, curled protectively around Frodo. "... or single-minded love or devotion."  
  
Gandalf turned his gaze back to Legolas. "You extended your life force to Frodo's, thinking only of his well-being and not your own. Frodo's defenses are very strong, Legolas, built at great cost to withstand the terror and the Shadow that stalks him; but for a brief time, as his Light was steadied by your own, he was able to find a moment of rest. Something deep within him recognized this priceless gift, which he remembered only as a gentle light in a peaceful dream."  
  
A slow, joyous smile lighted the Elf's face. "I would like to see this Light," he whispered.  
  
Gandalf nodded slowly. "The Shadow spreads, but Light and hope remain. They are found in the most unlikely of places."  
  
"And people." Legolas's gaze fell on the hobbits, three of whom were now sound asleep. Pippin was squirming around between Merry and Frodo, trying to get comfortable. The young hobbit saw the Elf watching him and he ducked down quickly, an unusually mischievous look on his face.  
  
"Peregrin Took," chuckled Gandalf. "The Flame Incorrigible."  
  
"That imp will keep you young, Mithrandir."  
  
"Or make me old." The wizard abruptly looked around, frowning. "Legolas?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Have you seen my staff?"  
  
** TBC ** 


	19. All The Magic We Need

For those following "Quarantined", Chapter 5 has been posted.

***************

Omigosh, "Avalanche" is finished!  This story was a real labor of love.  Much as I hate to end it, I've squeezed every drop of inspiration possible out of my Muse.  Let me wrap this up with an enormous "thank you", from the bottom of my heart, to everyone who accompanied me on this adventure and let me know you were enjoying it.  (And remember that I am *always* looking for hobbit-oriented story ideas!)

***************

PLEASE NOTE:   I am not a medical professional and do not claim to be.  This is a work of fiction.  No medical treatment or description of physical or emotional injury in this story should be taken as anything more than the author's own opinions and plot devices.

As the Fellowship begins its journey Pippin is 28 years old, a hobbit not yet "of age".  I have chosen to write him as such; a tweenager trying to hold his own in a group of adults but still on shaky emotional ground in a lot of ways.

DISCLAIMER:  Of course. The characters don't belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.

___________________________

AVALANCHE

Chapter 19 --- All The Magic We Need

"Wiggle."

Very slowly, Frodo moved the fingers of his left hand, then moved them faster.

"My wrist doesn't hurt at all anymore, Aragorn."  Puzzled, Frodo looked up at the Ranger.  "Should this have healed so fast?  How long have we been here?"

Aragorn continued his examination of the tiny wrist.  "Time does seem to move strangely here, does it not?"  He gave Frodo's arm a pat, and smiled at him.  "This has been a time of healing for all of us, in many ways."

"Yes," Frodo said thoughtfully.  He and Aragorn were sitting under a tree on one of the many soft, green lawns in Lórien.  Merry and Sam were lying in the grass nearby, relaxing, and Pippin had fallen sound asleep.  Frodo tilted his head back and looked up through the leaves, shimmering gently in the afternoon sun.

"What are you thinking about?" asked Aragorn.

"Pippin," said Frodo quietly.

"Ah."

"I thought we had lost him all over again, after Gandalf fell," said Frodo.  "That first night after…… after, when he wouldn't eat and wasn't talking……"  He sighed.  "I was afraid for him."

Aragorn lay back in the soft grass and peered up through the leaves.  "So was I."

"None of us knew……" Frodo's voice grew even softer, remembering.  "He eventually told Sam, Merry, and me that he had been sticking so close to Gandalf, in Moria, not just because of his fascination with that staff……"  Aragorn grinned.  "…… but because of what had happened on the mountain.  He said that he was never going to fall off anything ever again, and……" Frodo swallowed hard.  "…… he believed that a wizard could *never* fall off anything.  Even when Gandalf was cross, Pippin felt so safe around him.  He wanted to stay close to him --- to stay safe.  And then when Gandalf fell……"

"I didn't know that," said Aragorn, looking over at where Pippin lay, peacefully asleep.  "I cannot imagine the shock he must have felt.  Different from ours, I suspect."

"Everything changed in that moment," said Frodo.  "On the mountain, Pippin learned that something could happen to him……"  He smiled ruefully.  "…… and not just to me.  But in Moria, he learned that anything can happen to anyone.  Even Gandalf."  He sighed.  "That was hard for me to learn, too."

"Anything can happen, Frodo," said Aragorn, "but not just events that bring grief or fear.  There are also sudden moments of surprising courage or insight, unlooked-for friendships, unexpected beauty."

"I know," said Frodo softly.

Merry opened one eye.  "Strider, so little ever happens in the Shire, some hobbits can go a lifetime without experiencing any of that."

"Not any hobbits *I've* known," chuckled the Ranger.

They were quiet for a time, thinking about everything and nothing.

"You should get in more sword practice, Frodo," said Aragorn after awhile.  "As you said, anything can happen."

"No," said Frodo.  He lay back in the grass between Aragorn and Merry.  "No more of that.  I've decided to stay in Lórien and sleep for a year or so, assuming we haven't already been here for a year or so."  He smiled.  "I think I'll let Pippin carry the Ring from now on."

There was a muffled snort from Merry.  "Uh oh."

"It would certainly be interesting," mused Aragorn.  "Let's see.  Sam would no doubt stay here with you……"

"No doubt," murmured Sam.

"…… Legolas and Gimli never pledged to even come this far, so perhaps they would head home; I know Gimli wants to warn his people about Moria.  Boromir is returning to Minas Tirith…… Hmmm.  That would leave Merry, Pippin, and me to continue on."

"At least it won't be a dull journey South," Frodo said.  "Pippin knows loads of songs you haven't heard yet."

"There can't be any more."

"Yes there can," yawned Merry.

Aragorn was silent.

"On the other hand, you wouldn't have anyone to speak Elvish with you," continued Merry.

"Legolas will just *have* to come with us, then.  And I know Gimli will stand by his side."

"Boromir *is* headed South anyway," said Sam.

"That makes six in the Fellowship.  It might still work; and it will certainly be easier to feed two hobbits rather than four."

"Of course, you wouldn't have Sam to help with the cooking," said Merry.

"That's a dreadful thought," said Aragorn.  "Sam, I think you will have to accompany us after all.  And since you won't leave Frodo's side……"

"I give up."  Frodo stood up and shook his head.  "Pippin will never know how close he was to being the Ringbearer."  He gave Aragorn's leg a gentle kick.  "You don't have to look so smug.  I don't know why I'm being so nice to you, after you let me think I was dreaming when I wasn't."

"A healer does whatever he has to do."

"Apparently.  Where were we?"

"Sword practice," said Aragorn.

"My wrist isn't strong enough yet."

"You broke your *left* wrist, Mr. Frodo," said Sam helpfully.

"Thank you, Sam."

Frodo held out his hand to Aragorn.  The Ranger took it with a smile and got to his feet.

"Sword practice it is, then," said Frodo.  "Of course, I'm not entirely sure where I left Sting……"

"It's underneath your bedroll, Mr. Frodo."

Frodo sighed heavily.  "Thank you, Sam."  He and Aragorn walked off.

"How long *have* we been here?" mused Merry.

"Hard to say," said Sam.  "At least Mr. Frodo's eating well and sleeping better, and that's all I care about…… but as soon as we leave……"

"I know," said Merry softly.

"Is there much further to go, Mr. Merry?"

"Yes, Sam, there is."

"Oh."  Sam stood up.  "I guess there's no telling when we might be leaving, then.  I think I'll take a long walk underneath these trees.  I've never seen their like."

Left alone, Merry sat up and shook Pippin's shoulder.

"Wake up, lazy."

Pippin opened his eyes.  "H'lo."  He smiled.  "I was dreaming about Gandalf."

"It must have been nice."

"It was."  Pippin yawned and stretched.  "We were walking along, just the two of us, and I was trying to convince him that I needed a staff just like his."

Merry chuckled.  "Oh Pip, not that again."

"But he said……"  Pippin closed his eyes, remembering.  "He kneeled down and looked at me, and said I didn't need it anymore, Mer.  He said, 'You already have all the magic you require, Peregrin Took.'"  Pippin opened his eyes and looked at his cousin.  "Do you think I do?"

"I've *always* thought so."

Pippin smiled, and stretched again.  "I like that dream."  He looked around.  "Where did everybody go?"

"Strider hauled Frodo off for some sword practice, and Sam took a walk."  Merry suddenly grinned.  "You know, Pip, we were talking about you when you were asleep --- about your singing."

Pippin looked wary.  "What about it?"

"Strider seemed awfully surprised that he hadn't heard all your songs.  He didn't come out and say it, but I think he'd like you to sing some more of them for him."

"Really?"  Pippin sat up, looking pleased.

"I'm sure of it.  The longer the better."

Pippin suddenly looked thoughtful.  "Mer?"

"Yes?"

"Do you really think we have all the magic we need?"

Merry smiled.  "We've made it this far."

Pippin smiled back, then squinted his eyes a bit and tilted his head.

"What are you doing, you silly Took?"

"You know, Mer, it's strange, but sometimes, if I look at someone in just the right way……"

"Yes?"

"It's like they're all lit up."

** END **


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